LORD3 
NORTH 


A .  C .  LAUT 


iJiaiRlfllH^n.r 


LORDS 

OF  THE 

NORTH 


BY 


J^.  o. 


NEW  YORK 
J.  F.  TAYLOR  &  COMPANY 

1900 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  a.  C.   LAUT. 


•  *  •    • 


TO    THE 

pioneers  anD  tbeir  SescenOants 

WHOSE 

HEROISM    WON    THE   LAND, 

THIS    WORK 

IS   RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED. 


05430 


THE  TRAPPER'S  DEFIANCE, 

«  ITie  adventurous  spirits,  who  haunted  the  forest  and  plain, 

grew  fond  of  their  ^-ild  life  and  affected  a  great  contempt  for 

civilization." 

You  boxed-up,  mewed-up  artificials, 

Pent  in  your  piles  of  mortar  and  stone, 

Hugging  your  finely  spun  judicials. 

Adoring  externals,  externals  alone, 

Vaunting  in  prideful  ostentation 

Of  the  Juggernaut  car,  called  Civihzation— 

What  know  ye  of  freedom  and  life  and  God  ? 

Monkeys,  that  follow  a  showman's  string, 
know  more  of  freedom  and  less  of  care, 
Cage  birds,  that  flutter  from  perch  to  nng, 
Have  less  of  worry  and  surer  fare. 
Cursing  the  burdens,  yourselves  have  bound. 
In  a  maze  of  wants,  running  round  and  round- 
Are  ye  free  men,  or  manniken  slaves  r 

Costly  patches,  adorning  your  walls, 

Are  all  of  earth's  beauty  ye  care  to  know; 

But  ye  strut  about  in  soul-stifled  halls 

To  play  moth-life  by  a  candle-glow— 

What  soul  has  space  for  upward  fling. 

What  manhood  room  for  shoulder-swmg, 

Coffined  and  cramped  from  the  vasts  of  God.' 

The  Spirit  of  Life,  O  atrophied  soul. 
In  trappings  of  ease  is  not  confined  ;         „,,    ,^ 
That  touch  from  Infinite  Will  'neath  the  Whole 
In  Nature's  temple,  not  man's,  is  shrined . 
From  hovel-shed  come  out  and  be  strong . 
Be  ye  free !     Be  redeemed  from  the  wrong. 
Of  soul-guilt,  I  charge  you  as  sons  ot  God . 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

The  author  desires  to  express  thanks  to  pioneers 
and  fur  traders  of  the  West  for  information,  details  and 
anecdotes  bearing  on  the  old  life,  which  are  herein 
embodied  ;  and  would  also  acknowledge  the  assistance 
of  the  history  of  the  North-West  Company  and  manu- 
scripts of  the  Bourgeois,  compiled  by  Senator  L.  R. 
Masson  ;  and  the  value  of  such  early  works  as  those  of 
Dr.  George  Br>'ce,  Gunn,  Hargraves,  Ross  and  others. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 

PACK 

Wherein  a  Lad  sees  Makers  of  History 9 

CHAPTER  H. 
A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed 23 

CHAPTER  HI. 
Novice  and  Expert 38 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Launched  Into  the  Unknown 55 

CHAPTER  V. 
Civilization's  Veneer  Ruks  Off 70 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Girdle  of  Agates  Recalled 92 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council 99 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Little  Statue  Animate iiS 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary 131 

CHAPTER  X. 
More  Studies  in  Statuary 144 

CHAPTER  XL 
A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance 163 

CHAPTER  XIL 
How  A  VouTH  Became  a  King 181 


Contents 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Buffalo  Hunt 200 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  SLiprERY  Places 220 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Good  White  Father 2-^4 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Le  Grand  Diable  Sends  Back  our  Messenger 246 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Price  of  Blood 2 1;-? 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance 266 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Wherein  Louis  Intrigues 281 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Plots  and  Counter-Plots 297 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Louis  Pays  Me  Back -,j^ 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  Day  of  Reckoning ,27 

CHAPTER  XXin. 

The  Iroquois  Plays  his  Last  Card 341 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters 350 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue ->68 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils 378 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Under  One  Roof 330 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures 409 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 
The  Priest  Journeys  to  a  Far  Country 433 


INTRODUCTION. 

I,  RUFUS  Gillespie,  trader  and  clerk  for  the 
North-West  Company,  which  ruled  over  an  em- 
pire broader  than  Europe  in  the  beginning  of  this 
century,  and  with  Indian  allies  and  its  own  riotous 
Bois-BriiUs,  carried  war  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
vast  territory  claimed  by  its  rivals,  the  Honorable 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  have  briefly  related  a  few 
stirring  events  of  those  boisterous  days.  Should 
the  account  here  set  down  be  questioned,  I  appeal 
for  confirmation  to  that  missionary  among  north- 
ern tribes,  the  famous  priest,  who  is  the  son  of  the 
ill-fated  girl  stolen  by  the  wandering  Iroquois. 
Lord  Selkirk's  narration  of  lawless  conflict  with 
the  Nor'-Westers  and  the  verbal  testimony  of  Red 
River  settlers,  who  are  still  living,  will  also  sub- 
stantiate what  I  have  stated  ;  though  allowance 
must  be  made  for  the  violent  partisan  leaning  of 
witnesses,  and  from  that,  I — as  a  Nor'-Wester — • 
do  not  claim  to  be  free. 

On  the  charges  and  counter-charges  of  cruelty 
bandied  between  white  men  and  red,  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say.  Remembering  how  white  soldiers 
from  eastern  cities  took  the  skin  of  a  native  chief 
for  a  trophy  of  victory,  and  recalling  the  fiendish 
glee  of  Mandanes  over  a  victim,  I  can  only  con* 

5 


(  •  •  •  •  » 
•  •  •  •  .  •  • 
>  •     •   »,   •   • 


;. :  y'fiy\\':  ••:  ..::•*.  -Introduction. 


elude  that  neither  race  may  blamelessly  point  the 
finger  of  reproach  at  the  other. 

Any  variations  in  detail  from  actual  occurrences 
as  seen  by  my  own  eyes  are  solely  for  the  purpose 
of  screening  living  descendants  of  those  whose 
lives  are  here  portrayed  from  prynng  curios- 
ity ;  but,  in  truth,  many  experiences  during  the 
thrilling  days  of  the  fur  companies  were  far  too 
harrowing  for  recital.  I  would  fain  have  tem- 
pered some  of  the  incidents  herein  related  to  suit 
the  sentiments  of  a  milk-and-water  age  ;  but  that 
could  be  done  only  at  the  cost  of  truth. 

There  is  no  French  strain  in  my  blood,  so  I 
have  not  that  passionate  devotion  to  the  wild 
daring  of  Vancieti  regime,  in  which  many  of  my 
rugged  companions  under  Les  Bourgeois  de  la 
Compag7iie  du  Nord-Oucst  gloried  ;  but  he  would 
be  very  sluggish,  indeed,  who  could  not  lookback 
w'ith  some  degree  of  enthusiasm  to  the  days  of 
gentlemen  adventurers  in  no-man's-land,  in  a  word, 
to  the  workings  of  the  great  fur  trading  com- 
panies. Theirs  were  the  trappers  and  runners, 
the  Coureurs  des  Bois  and  Bois-Brul^s,  who  trav- 
ersed the  immense  solitudes  of  the  pathless 
west ;  theirs,  the  brigades  of  gay  voyageiirs  chant- 
ing hilarious  refrains  in  unison  with  the  rhythmic 
Siveep  of  paddle  blades  and  following  unknown 
streams  until  they  had  explored  from  St.  Law- 
rence to  MacKenzie  River ;  and  theirs,  the  merry 
lads  of  the  north,  blazing  a  track  through  the 
w^ilderness  and  leaving  from  Atlantic  to  Pacific 
lonely   stockaded  fur  posts — footprints    for   the 


Introduction.  7 

pioneers'  guidance.  The  whitewashed  palisades 
of  many  little  settlements  on  the  rivers  and  lakes 
of  the  far  north  are  poor  relics  of  the  fur  com- 
panies' ancient  grandeur.  That  broad  domain 
stretching  from  Hudson  Bay  to  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
reclaimed  from  savagery  for  civilization,  is  the 
best  monument  to  the  unheralded  forerunners  of 
empire. 

RUFUS  GILLESPIE. 

Winnipeg — one  time  Fort  Garry — 
Formerly  Red  River  Settlement, 
i^/i  June,  18 — 


LORDS   OF  THE   NORTH 


CHAPTER  I 

WHEREIN  A   LAD   SEES   MAKERS   OF  HISTORY 

"  Has   any  one  seen  Eric  Hamilton?"  I  asked. 

For  an  hour,  or  more,  I  had  been  lounging 
about  the  sitting-room  of  a  club  in  Quebec  City, 
waiting  for  my  friend,  who  had  promised  to  join 
me  at  dinner  that  night.  I  threw  aside  a  news- 
sheet,  which  I  had  exhausted  down  to  minutest 
advertisements,  stretched  myself  and  strolled 
across  to  a  group  of  old  fur-traders,  retired  part- 
ners of  the  North-West  Company,  who  were  en- 
gaged in  heated  discussion  with  some  officers  from 
the  Citadel. 

"  Has  any  one  seen  Eric  Hamilton  ?  "  I  repeated, 
indifferent  to  the  merits  of  their  dispute. 

'*  That's  the  tenth  time  you've  asked  that  ques- 
tion," said  my  Uncle  Jack  MacKenzie,  looking  up 
sharply,  "  the  tenth  time,  Sir,  by  actual  count," 
and  he  puckered  his  brows  at  the  interruption, 
just  as  he  used  to  when  I  was  a  little  lad  on  his 
knee  and  chanced  to  break  into  one  of  his  hunt- 
ing stories  with  a  question  at  the  wrong  place. 

9 


10  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Hang  it,"  drawled  Colonel  Adderly,  a  squatty 
man  with  an  over-fed  look  on  his  bulcrine,  red 
cheeks,  "hang  it,  you  don't  expect  Hamilton? 
The  baby  must  be  teething,"  and  he  added  more 
chaff  at  the  expense  of  my  friend,  who  had  been 
the  subject  of  good-natured  banter  among  club 
members  for  devotion  to  his  first-born. 

I  saw  Adderly 's  object  was  more  to  get  away 
from  the  traders*  arguments  than  to  answer  me : 
and  I  returned  the  insolent  challenge  of  his  uncon- 
cealed yawn  in  the  faces  of  the  elder  men  by 
drawing  a  chair  up  to  the  company  of  McTavishes 
and  Frobishers  and  McGillivrays  and  MacKenzies 
and  other  retired  veterans  of  the  north  country. 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  what 
were  you  saying  to  Colonel  Adderly?" 

"Talk  of  your  militaiy  conquests,  Sir,"  my 
uncle  continued,  "  Why,  Sir,  our  men  have  trans- 
formed a  wilderness  into  an  empire.  They  have 
blazed  a  path  from  Labrador  on  the  Atlantic  to 
that  rock  on  the  Pacific,  where  my  esteemed  kins- 
man. Sir  Alexander  MacKenzie,  left  his  inscrip- 
tion of  discovery.  Mark  my  words,  Sir,  the  day 
will  come  when  the  names  of  David  Thompson 
and  Simon  Fraser  and  Sir  Alexander  MacKenzie 
w^ill  rank  higher  in  English  annals  than  Brad- 
dock's  and " 

"  Egad !  "  laughed  the  officer,  amused  at  my 
uncle,  who  had  been  a  leading  spirit  in  the  North- 
West  Company  and  whose  enthusiasm  knew  no 
bounds,  "  Egad !  You  gentlemen  adventurers 
v/ouldn't    need  to    have    accomplished    much    to 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  History    ii 

eclipse  Braddock."  And  he  paused  with  a  ques- 
tioning supercilious  smile.  *'  Sir  Alexander  was 
a  first  cousin  of  yours,  was  he  not?" 

My  uncle  flushed  hotly.  That  slighting  refer- 
ence to  gentlemen  adventurers,  with  just  a  per- 
ceptible emphasis  of  the  adventurers,  was  not  to 
his  taste. 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir,"  said  he  stiffly,  "  you  forget 
that  by  the  terms  of  their  charter,  the  Ancient 
and  Honorable  Hudson's  Bay  Company  have  the 
privilege  of  being  known  as  gentlemen  adventur- 
ers. And  by  the  Lord,  Sir,  'tis  a  gentleman  ad- 
venturer and  nothing  else,  that  stock-jobbing 
scoundrel  of  a  Selkirk  has  proved  himself! 
And  he,  sir,  was  neither  Nor'-Wester,  nor  Cana- 
dian, but  an  Englishman,  like  the  commander  of 
the  Citadel."  My  uncle  puffed  out  these  last 
words  in  the  nature  of  a  defiance  to  the  English 
officer,  whose  cheeks  took  on  a  deeper  purplish 
shade  ;  but  he  returned  the  charge  good-humor- 
edly  enough. 

"  Nonsense,  IMacKenzie,  my  good  friend," 
laughed  he  patronizingly,  '•  if  the  Right  Honor- 
able, the  Earl  of  Selkirk,  were  such  an  adventurer, 
why  the  deuce  did  the  Beaver  Club  down  at  Mon- 
treal receive  him  with  open  mouths  and  open  arms 
and " 

"And  open  hearts.  Sir,  you  may  say,"  inter- 
rupted my  Uncle  MacKenzie.  "  And  I'd  thank 
you  not  to  '  good-friend '  me,"  he  added  tartly. 

Now,  the  Beaver  Club  was  an  organization 
of    Nor'-Westers    renowned    for   its    hospitality, 


12  Lords  of  the  North 

Founded  in  1785,  originally  composed  of  but 
nineteen  members  and  afterwards  extended  only 
to  men  who  had  served  in  the  Pays  d' En  Haiity 
it  soon  acquired  a  reputation  for  entertaining  in 
regal  style.  Why  the  vertebrae  of  colonial  gentle- 
men should  sometimes  lose  the  independent, 
upright  rigidity  of  self-respect  on  contact  with 
old  world  nobility,  I  know  not.  But  instantly, 
Colonel  Adderly's  reference  to  Lord  Selkirk  and 
the  Beaver  Club  called  up  the  picture  of  a  ban- 
quet in  Montreal,  when  I  was  a  lad  of  seven,  or 
thereabouts.  I  had  been  tricked  out  in  some 
Highland  costume  especially  pleasing  to  the  Earl 
— cap,  kilts,  dirk  and  all — and  was  taken  by  my 
Uncle  Jack  MacKenzie  to  the  Beaver  Club. 
Here,  in  a  room,  that  glittered  with  lights,  was  a 
table  steaming  with  things,  which  caught  and 
held  my  boyish  eyes ;  and  all  about  were  crowds 
of  guests,  gentlemen,  who  had  been  invited  in 
the  quaint  language  of  the  club,  ''To  discuss  the 
merits  of  bear,  beaver  and  venison."  The  great 
Sir  Alexander  MacKenzie,  with  his  title  fresh 
from  the  king,  and  his  feat  of  exploring  the  river 
now  known  by  his  name  and  pushing  through  the 
mountain  fastnesses  to  the  Pacific  on  all  men's 
lips — was  to  my  Uncle  Jack's  right.  Simon 
Fraser  and  David  Thompson  and  other  famous 
explorers,  who  were  heroes  to  my  imagination, 
were  there  too.  In  these  men  and  what  they 
said  of  their  wonderful  voyages  I  was  far  more 
interested  than  in  the  young,  keen-faced  man 
with  a  tie,  that  came   up  in  ruffles   to   his    ears, 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  History  13 
and  with  an  imperial  decoration  on  his  breast, 
which  told  me  he  was  Lord  Selkirk. 

I  remember  when  the  huge  salvers  and  platters 
were  cleared  away,  I  was  placed  on  the  table  to 
execute  the  sword  dance.     I  must  have  acquitted 
myself  with  some  credit ;  for  the  gentlemen  set  up 
a  prodigious  clapping,  though  I    recall  nothing 
but  a  snapping  of  my  fingers,  a  wave  of  my  cap 
and  a  whirl  of  lights  and  faces  around  my  dizzy 
head     Then  my  uncle  took  me  between  his  knees, 
promising  to  let  me  sit  up  to  the  end  if  I  were 
good,  and  more  wine  was  passed. 

"  That's  enough  for  you,  you  young  cub,    says 
my  kinsman,  promptly  inverting  the  wine-glass 

before  me.  ^       .  i  _ 

"  O   Uncle  MacKenzie,  "   said  I    with   a  wry 

face,  "  do  vou  measure  your  own  wine  so  ? 

Whereat,    the  noble    Earl     shouted,      Bravo ! 

here's  for  you,  Mr.  MacKenzie." 

And  all  the  gentlemen  set  up  a  laugh  and  my 

uncle  smiled  and  called  to   the   butler.       Here. 

Johnson,  toddy  for  one,  glass  of  hot  water,  pure, 

^°But  when  Johnson  brought  back  the  glasses, 
I  observed  Uncle  MacKenzie  l<ept  the  toddy_ 
"  There,  my  boy,  there's  Adam's  ale  for  you,  said 
he,  and  into  the  glass  of  hot  water  he  popped  a 
neppermint  lozenge. 

"Fie  I  "  laughed  Sir  Alexander  to  my  uncle  s 
right,  "  Fie  to  cheat  the  little  man !  " 

«  His  is  the  best  wine  of  the  cellar,    vowed  His 
Lordship  ;  and  I  drank  my  peppermint  with  as 


14  Lords  of  the  North 

much  gusto   and  self-importance  as  any  man  of 
them. 

Then  followed  toasts,  such  a  list  of  toasts  as 
only  men  inured  to  tests  of  strength  could  take. 
Ironical  toasts  to  the  North-West  Passage,  whose 
myth  Sir  Alexander  had  dispelled  ;  toasts  to  the 
discoverer  of  the  MacKenzie  River,  which  brought 
storms  of  applause  that  shook  the  house ;  toasts 
to  "  our  distinguished  guest,"  whose  suave  re- 
sponse disarmed  all  suspicion  ;  toasts  to  the 
"  Northern  winterers,"  poor  devils,  who  were  serv- 
ing the  cause  by  undergoing  a  life-long  term  of 
Arctic  exile ;  toasts  to  '*  the  merry  lads  of  the 
north,"  who  only  served  in  the  ranks  without  at- 
taining to  the  honor  of  partnership  ;  toasts  enough, 
in  all  conscience,  to  drown  the  memory  of  every 
man  present.  Thanks  to  my  Uncle  Jack  Mac- 
Kenzie, all  my  toasts  were  taken  in  peppermint, 
and  the  picture  in  my  mind  of  that  banquet  is  as 
clear  to-day  as  it  was  when  I  sat  at  the  table. 
What  would  I  not  give  to  be  back  at  the  Beaver 
Club,  living  it  all  over  again  and  hearing  Sir 
Alexander  MacKenzie  with  his  flashing  hero-eyes 
and  quick,  passionate  gestures,  recounting  that 
wonderful  voyage  of  his  with  a  sulky  crew  into  a 
region  of  hostiles ;  telling  of  those  long  intermi- 
nable winters  of  Arctic  night,  when  the  great  ex- 
plorer sounded  the  depths  of  utter  despair  in  serv- 
ice for  the  company  and  knew  not  whether  he 
faced  madness  or  starvation ;  and  thrilling  the 
whole  assembly  with  a  description  of  his  first 
glimpse  of  the  Pacific !     Perhaps  it  was  what  I 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  History    15 

heard  that  night — who  can  tell — that  drew  me  to 
the  wild  life  of  after  years.  But  I  was  too  young, 
then,  to  recognize  fully  the  greatness  of  those 
men.  Indeed,  my  country  was  then  and  is  yet 
too  young;  for  if  their  greatness  be  recognized, 
it  is  forgotten  and  unhonored. 

I  think  I  must  have  fallen  asleep  on  my  uncle's 
knee  ;  for  I  next  remember  sleepily  looking  about 
and  noticing  that  many  of  the  gentlemen  had 
slid  down  in  their  chairs  and  with  closed  eyes 
were  breathing  heavily.  Others  had  slipped  to 
the  floor  and  were  sound  asleep.  This  shocked 
me  and  I  was  at  once  wide  awake.  I\Iy  uncle 
was  sittincr  very  erect  and  his  arm  around  my 
waist  had  the  tight  grasp  that  usually  preceded 
some  sharp  rebuke.  I  looked  up  and  found  his 
face  grown  suddenly  so  hard  and  stern,  I  was  all 
affright  lest  my  sleeping  had  offended  him.  His 
eyes  were  fastened  on  Lord  Selkirk  with  a  pierc- 
ing, angr>'  gaze.  His  Lordship  was  not  nodding, 
not  a  bit  of  it.  How  brilliant  he  seemed  to  my 
childish  fancy  !  He  was  leaning  forward,  ques- 
tioning those  Nor'-Westers,  who  had  received 
him  with  open  arms,  and  open  hearts.  And  the 
wine  had  mounted  to  the  head  of  the  good  Nor'- 
Westers  and  they  were  now  also  receiving  the 
strange  nobleman  with  open  mouths,  pouring  out 
to  him  a  full  account  of  their  profits,  the  extent 
of  the  vast,  unknown  game  preserve,  and  how 
their  methods  so  far  surpassed  those  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay,  their  rival's  stock  had  fallen  in 
value  from  250  to  50  per  cent. 


i6  Lords  of  the  North 

The  more  information  they  gave,  the  more  His 
Lordship  pHed  them  with  questions. 

''  I  must  say,"  whispered  Uncle  Jack  to  Sir 
Alexander  MacKenzie,  *'if  any  Hudson's  Bay 
man  asked  such  pointed  questions  on  North-West 
business,  I'd  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  ejecting 
him  from  this  room." 

Then,  I  knew  his  anger  was  against  Lord  Sel- 
kirk and  not  against  me  for  sleeping. 

"  Nonsense,"  retorted  Sir  Alexander,  who  had 
cut  active  connection  with  the  Nor*-Westers 
some  years  before,  "  there's  no  ground  for  sus- 
picion." But  he  seemed  uneasy  at  the  turn  things 
had  taken. 

"  Has  your  Lordship  some  colonization  scheme 
that  you  ask  such  pointed  questions?  "  demanded 
my  uncle,  addressing  the  Earl.  The  nobleman 
turned  quickly  to  him  and  said  something  about 
the  Highlanders  and  Prince  Edward's  Island, 
which  I  did  not  understand.  The  rest  of  that 
evening  fades  from  my  thoughts  ;  for  I  was  carried 
home  in  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie's  arms. 

And  all  these  things  happened  some  ten  or 
twelve  years  before  that  wordy  sword-play  between 
this  same  uncle  of  mine  and  the  English  colonel 
from  the  Citadel. 

"  We  erred.  Sir,  through  too  great  hospitality," 
my  uncle  was  saying  to  the  colonel.  "  How  could 
we  know  that  Selkirk  would  purchase  controlling 
interest  in  Hudson's  Bay  stock?  How  could  we 
know  he'd  secure  a  land  grant  in  the  very  heart  of 
our  domain  ?" 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  Histoiy    17 

"  I  don't  object  to  his  land,  nor  to  his  colonists, 
nor  to  his  dower  of  ponies  and  muskets  and 
bayonets  to  every  mother's  son  of  them,"  broke 
in  another  of  the  retired  traders,  "  but  I  do  object 
to  his  drilling  those  same  colonists,  to  his  import- 
ing a  field  batter>^  and  bringing  out  that  little 
ram  of  a  McDonell  from  the  Army  to  egg  the 
settlers  on  !  It's  bad  enough  to  pillage  our  fort  ; 
but  this  proclamation  to  expel  Nor'-Westers 
from  what  is  claimed  as  Hudson's  Bay  Terri- 
tory  " 

**  Just  listen  to  this,"  cries  my  uncle  pulling  out 
a  copy  of  the  obnoxious  proclamation  and  reading 
aloud  an  order  for  the  expulsion  of  all  rivals  to 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  from  the  northern 
territory. 

"Where  can  Hamilton  be?"  said  I,  losing  in- 
terest in  the  traders'  quarrel  as  soon  as  they  went 
into  details. 

"  Home  with  his  wifie,"  half  sneered  the  officer 
in  a  nagging  way,  that  irritated  me,  though  the 
remark  was,  doubtless,  true.  "  Home  with  his 
wifie,"  he  repeated  in  a  sing-song,  paying  no  at- 
tention to  the  elucidation  of  a  subject  he  had 
raised.  '*  Good  old  man,  Hamilton,  but  since 
marriage,  utterly  gone  to  the  bad  !  " 

''To  the  what.^"  I  queried,  taking  him  up 
short.  This  officer,  with  the  pudding  cheeks  and 
patronizing  insolence,  had  a  provoking  trick  of 
always  keeping  just  inside  the  bounds  of  what 
one  might  resent.  ''  To  the  what,  did  you  say 
Hamilton  had  gone?  " 


l3  Lords  of  the  North 

"  To  the  domestics,"  says  he  laughing,  then  to 
the  others,  as  if  he  had  listened  to  every  word  of 
the  explanations,  "  and  if  His  Little  Excellency, 
Governor  MacDonell,  by  the  grace  of  Lord  Sel- 
kirk, ruler  over  gentlemen  adventurers  in  no- 
man's-land,  expels  the  good  Nor'-Westers  from 
nowhere  to  somewhere  else,  what  do  the  good 
Nor'-Westers  intend  doing  to  the  Little  Tyrant  ?  " 

"  Charles  the  First  him,"  responds  a  wag  of  the 

club. 

**  Where's  your  Cromwell  ?  "  laughs  the  colonel. 

'*  Our  Cromwell's  a  Cameron,  temper  of  a 
Lucifer,  oaths  before  action,"  answers  the 
wag. 

"  Tuts  !  "  exclaims  Uncle  Jack  testily.  "  We'll 
settle  His  Lordship's  little  martinet  of  the  plains. 
Warrant  for  his  arrest !     Fetch  him  out !  " 

'•'Warrant  43rd  King  George  HI.  will  do  it," 
added  one  of  the  partners  who  had  looked  the 
matter  up. 

"43rd  King  George  HI.  doesn't  give  jurisdic- 
tion for  trial  in  Lower  Canada,  if  offense  be  com- 
mitted elsewhere,"  interjects  a  lawyer  with  show 
of  importance. 

"A  Daniel  come  to  judgment,"  laughs  the 
colonel,  winking  as  my  uncle's  wrath  rose. 

'*  Pah  I  "  says  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzIe  in  disgust, 
stamping  on  the  floor  with  both  feet.  "You 
lawyers  needn't  think  you'll  have  your  pickings 
when  fur  companies  quarrel.  We'll  ship  him  out, 
that's  all.  Neither  of  the  companies  wants  to  ad- 
vertise its  profits — ** 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  History    19 

"Or  its  methods  —  ahem!"  interjects  the 
colonel. 

"  And  its  private  business,"  adds  my  uncle, 
looking  daggers  at  Adderly,  "  by  going  to  court." 

Then  they  all  rose  to  go  to  the  dining-room  ; 
and  as  I  stepped  out  to  have  a  look  down  the 
street  for  Hamilton,  I  heard  Colonel  Adderly's 
last  fling — "  Pretty  rascals,  you  gentlemen  adven- 
turers are,  so  shy  and  coy  about  law  courts." 

It  was  a  dark  night,  with  a  few  lonely  stars  in 
mid-heaven,  a  sickle  moon  cutting  the  horizon 
cloud-rim  and  a  noisy  March  wind  that  boded 
snow  from  The  Labrador,  or  sleet  from  the  Gulf. 

When  Eric  Hamilton  left  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company's  service  at  York  Factory  on  Hudson 
Bay  and  came  to  live  in  Quebec,  I  was  but  a 
student  at  Laval.  It  was  at  my  Uncle  Mac- 
Kenzie's  that  I  met  the  tall,  dark,  sinewy,  taciturn 
man,  whose  influence  was  to  play  such  a  strange 
part  in  my  life ;  and  when  these  two  talked  of 
their  adventures  in  the  far,  lone  land  of  the  north, 
I  could  no  more  conceal  my  awe-struck  admiration 
than  a  girl  could  on  first  discovering  her  own 
charms  in  a  looking-glass.  I  think  he  must  have 
noticed  my  boyish  reverence,  for  once  he  conde- 
scended to  ask  about  the  velvet  cap  and  green 
sash  and  long  blue  coat  which  made  up  the  Laval 
costume,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  talking  to  him 
as  volubly  as  if  he  were  the  boy  and  I,  the  great 
Hudson's  Bay  trader. 

*'  It  makes  me  feel  quite  like  a  boy  again,"  he 
had  said  on  resuming  conversation  with  Mr.  Mac- 


20  Lords  of  the  North 

Kenzie.  "  By  Jove !  Sir,  I  can  hardly  realize  I 
went  into  that  country  a  lad  of  fifteen,  like  youf 
nephew,  and  here  I  am,  out  of  it,  an  old  man." 

"  Pah,  Eric  man,"  says  my  uncle,  ''  you'll  be 
finding  a  wife  one  of  these  days  and  renewing 
your  youth." 

"  Uncle,"  I  broke  out  when  the  Hudson's  Bay 
man  had  gone  home,  "  how  old  is  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton?" 

"  Fifteen  years  older  than  you  are,  boy,  and  I 
pray  Heaven  you  may  have  half  as  much  of  the 
man  in  you  at  thirty  as  he  has,"  returns  my  uncle 
mentally  measuring  me  with  that  stern  eye  of 
his.  At  that  information,  my  heart  gave  a  curi- 
ous, jubilant  thud.  Henceforth,  I  no  longer 
looked  upon  Mr.  Hamilton  with  the  same  awe 
that  a  choir  boy  entertains  for  a  bishop.  Some- 
thing of  comradeship  sprang  up  between  us,  and 
before  that  year  had  passed  we  were  as  boon  com- 
panions as  man  and  boy  could  be.  But  Hamilton 
presently  spoiled  it  all  by  fulfilling  my  uncle's 
prediction  and  finding  a  wife,  a  beautiful,  fair- 
haired,  frail  slip  of  a  girl,  near  enough  the  twenties 
to  patronize  me  and  too  much  of  the  young  lady 
to  find  pleasure  in  an  awkward  lad.  That  meant 
an  end  to  our  rides  and  walks  and  sails  down  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  long  evening  talks ;  but  I  took 
my  revenge  by  assuming  the  airs  of  a  man  of  forty, 
at  which  Hamilton  quizzed  me  not  a  little  and  his 
wife,  Miriam,  laughed.  Then  I  surprised  them  all 
by  jumping  suddenly  from  boyhood  to  manhood 
— **like  a  tadpole  into  a  mosquito,"  as  my  Uncle 


Wherein  a  Lad  Sees  Makers  of  History    21 

Jack  facetiously  remarked.  Meanwhile,  a  son  and 
heir  came  to  my  friend's  home  and  I  had  to  be 
thankful  for  a  humble  third  place. 

And  so  it  came  that  I  was  waiting  for  Eric's 
arrival  at  the  Quebec  Club  that  night,  peering 
from  the  porch  for  sight  of  him  and  calculating 
how  long  it  would  take  to  ride  from  the  Chateau 
Bigot  above  Charlesbourg,  where  he  was  stay- 
ing. Stepping  outside,  I  was  surprised  to  see 
the  form  of  a  horse  beneath  the  lantern  of  the 
arched  gateway ;  and  my  surprise  increased  on 
nearer  inspection.  As  I  w^alked  up,  the  creature 
gave  a  whinny  and  I  recognized  Hamilton's  horse, 
lathered  with  sweat,  unblanketed  and  shivering. 
The  possibility  of  an  accident  hardly  suggested 
itself  before  I  observed  the  bridle-rein  had  been 
slung  over  the  hitching-post  and  heard  steps 
hurrying  to  the  side  door  of  the  club-house. 

**  Is  that  you,  Eric  ?  "  I  called. 

There  was  no  answer  ;  so  I  led  the  horse  to  the 
stable  boy  and  hurried  back  to  see  if  Hamilton 
were  inside.  The  sitting  room  was  deserted  ;  but 
Eric's  well-known,  tall  figure  was  entering  the 
dining-room.  And  a  curious  figure  he  presented 
to  the  questioning  looks  of  the  club  men.  In  one 
hand  was  his  riding  w^hip,  in  the  other,  his  gloves. 
He  wore  the  buckskin  coat  of  a  trapper  and  in 
the  belt  were  two  pistols.  One  sleeve  was  torn 
from  wrist  to  elbow  and  his  boots  were  scratched 
as  if  they  had  been  combed  by  an  iron  rake.  His 
broad-brimmed  hat  was  still  on,  slouched  down 
over  his  eyes  like  that  of  a  scout. 


22  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Gad  !  liamilton,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Jack  Mac- 
Kenzie,  who  was  facing  Eric  as  I  came  up  behind, 
*' have  you  been  in  a  race  or  a  fight?"  and  he 
gave  him  the  look  of  suspicion  one  might  give 
an  intoxicated  man. 

"  Is  it  a  cold  night  ?  "  asked  the  colonel  punctili- 
ously, gazing  hard  at  the  still-strapped  hat. 

Not  a  word  came  from  Hamilton. 

"How's  the  cold  in  your  head?"  continued 
Adderly,  pompously  trying  to  stare  Hamilton's 
hat  off. 

"  Here  I  am,  old  man  !  What's  kept  you  ?  " 
and  I  rushed  forward  but  quickly  checked  myself; 
for  Hamilton  turned  slowly  towards  me  and  in- 
stead of  erect  bearing,  clear  glance,  firm  mouth,  I 
saw  a  head  that  was  bowed,  eyes  that  burned  like 
fire,  and  parched,  parted,  wordless  lips. 

If  the  colonel  had  not  been  stuffing  himself 
like  the  turkey  guzzler  that  he  was,  he  would  have 
seen  something  unspeakably  terrible  written  on 
Hamilton's  silent  face. 

"  Did  the  little  wifie  let  him  off  for  a  night's 
play  ?  "  sneered  Adderly. 

Barely  were  the  words  out,  when  Hamilton's 
teeth  clenched  behind  the  open  lips,  giving  him 
an  ugly,  furious  expression,  strange  to  his  face. 
He  took  a  quick  stride  towards  the  officer,  raised 
his  whip  and  brought  it  down  with  the  full  strength 
of  his  shoulder  in  one  cutting  blow  across  the 
bagg\',  purplish  cheeks  of  the  insolent  speaker. 


CHAPTER  II 

A   STRONG   MAX   IS   BOWED 

The  whole  thing  was  so  unexpected  that  for 
one  moment  not  a  man  in  the  room  drew  breath. 
Then  the  colonel  sprang  up  with  the  bellow  of  an 
enraged  bull,  overturning  the  table  in  his  rush, 
and  a  dozen  club  members  were  pulling  him  back 

from  Eric.  ^ 

*♦  Eric  Hamilton,  are  you  mad?"  I  cried.  "What 

do  you  mean?  " 

But  Hamilton  stood  motionless  as  if  he  saw 
none  of  us.  Except  that  his  breath  was  labored, 
he  wore  precisely  the  same  strange,  distracted  air 
he  had  on  entering  the  club. 

"Hold  back!"  I  implored;  for  Adderly  was 
striking  right  and  left  to  get  free  from  the  men. 
"Hold  back!     There's  am.istake!     Something's 

wrong !  " 

'^  Reptile  !  "  roared  the  colonel.  *'  Cowardly  rep- 
tile, you  shall  pay  for  this !  " 

"  There's  a  mistake,"  I  shouted,  above  the 
clamor  of  exclamations. 

-  Glad  the  mistake  landed  where  it  did,  all  the 
c:ame,"  whispered  Uncle  Jack  MacKenzie  in  my 
ear  '^  but  get  him  out  of  this.  Drunk— or  a 
scandal,"  savs   my  uncle,   who  always  expressed 


24  Lords  of  the  North 

himself  in  explosives  when  excited.  "  Side  room 
— here — lead  him  in — drunk — by  Jove — drunk  !  " 

"  Never,"  I  returned  passionately.  I  knew 
both  Hamilton  and  his  wife  too  well  to  tolerate 
either  insinuation.  But  we  led  him  like  a  dazed 
being  into  a  side  office,  where  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie 
promptly  turned  the  key  and  took  up  a  posture 
with  his  back  against  the  door. 

''Now,    Sir,'*    he    broke    out    sternly,  "if   it's 

neither    drink,    nor   a   scandal "      There,    he 

stopped  ;  for  Hamilton,  utterly  unconscious  of  us, 
moved,  rather  than  walked,  automatically  across 
the  room.  Throwing  his  hat  down,  he  bowed 
his  head  over  both  arms   above  the  mantel-piece. 

My  uncle  and  I  looked  from  the  silent  man  to 
each  other.  Raising  his  brows  in  question,  Mr. 
Jack  MacKenzie  touched  his  forehead  and  whis- 
pered across  to  me — "  Mad  ?  " 

At  that,  though  the  word  was  spoken  barely 
above  a  breath,  Eric  turned  slowly  round  and 
faced  us  with  blood-shot,  gleam.ing  eyes.  He 
made  as  though  he  would  speak,  sank  into  the 
armchair  before  the  grate  and  pressed  both  hands 
against  his  forehead. 

'*  Mad,"  he  repeated  in  a  voice  low  as  a  moan, 
framing  his  words  slowly  and  with  great  effort. 
"  By  Jove,  men,  you  should  know  me  better  than 
to  mouth  such  rot  under  your  breath.  To-night, 
I'd  sell  my  soul,  sell  my  soul  to  be  mad,  really 
mad,  to  know  that  all  I  think  has  happened, 
hadn't  happened  at  all — "  and  his  speech  was 
broken  by  a  sharp  intake  of  breath. 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  25 

"  Out  with  it,  man,  for  the  Lord's  sake,"  shouted 
my  uncle,  now  convinced  that  Eric  was  not  drunk 
and  jumping  to  conclusions — as  he  was  wont  to 
do  when    excited — regarding  a  possible  scandal. 

"  Out  with  it,  man  !  We'll  stand  by  you  !  Has 
that  blasted  red-faced  turkey " 

''  Pray,  spare  your  histrionics,  for  the  present," 
Eric  cut  in  with  the  icy  self-possession  bred  by  a 
lifetime's  danger,  dispelling  my  uncle's  second 
suspicion  with  a  quiet  scorn  that  revealed  nothing. 

''  What  the "  began  my  kinsman,  ''what  did 

you  strike  him  for?" 

"Did  I  strike  somebody?"  asked  Hamilton 
absently. 

Again  my  uncle  flashed  a  questioning  look  at 
me,  but  this  time  his  face  showed  his  conviction 
so  plainly  no  word  was  needed. 

"Did  I  strike  somebody?  Wish  you'd  apolo- 
gize  " 

"  Apologize  !  "  thundered  my  uncle.  "  I'll  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  Served  him  right.  'Twas 
a  pretty  way,  a  pretty  way,  indeed,  to  speak  of 

any  man's  wife "     But  the  word  "wife"  had 

not  been  uttered  before  Eric  threw  out  his  hands 
in  an  imploring  gesture. 

"  Don't  !  "  he  cried  out  sharply  in  the  sufifering 
tone  of  a  man  under  the  operating  knife.  "  Don't ! 
It  all  comes  back  !  It  is  true !  It  is  true  I  I 
can't  get  away  from  it  I  It  is  no  nightmare.  My 
God,  men,  how  can  I  tell  you  ?  There's  no  way 
of  saying  it !  It  is  impossible — preposterous — 
some  monstrous  joke — it's  quite  impossible  I  tell 


26  Lords  of  the  North 

you — it  couldn't  have  happened — such  things 
don't  happen — couldn't  happen — to  her — of  all 
women  !     But  she's  gone — she's  gone " 

"  See  here,  Hamilton,"  cried  my  uncle,  utterly 
beside  himself  with  excitement,  *'  are  we  to  under- 
stand you  are  talking  of  your  wife,  or — or  some 
other  woman  ?  " 

"  See  here,  Hamilton,"  I  reiterated,  quite  heed- 
less of  the  brutality  of  our  questions  and  with  a 
thousand  wild  suspicions  flashing  into  my  mind. 
"  Is  it  your  wife,  Miriam,  and  your  boy  ?  " 

But  he  heard  neither  of  us. 

"  They  were  there — they  waved  to  me  from  the 
garden  at  the  edge  of  the  woods  as  I  entered  the 
forest.  Only  this  morning,  both  waving  to  me  as 
I  rode  away — and  when  I  returned  from  the  city 
at  noon,  they  were  gone  !  I  looked  to  the  window 
as  I  came  back.  The  curtain  moved  and  I  thought 
my  boy  was  hiding,  but  it  was  only  the  wind. 
We've  searched  every  nook  from  cellar  to  attic. 
His  toys  were  littered  about  and  I  fancied  I 
heard  his  voice  ever^^where,  but  no  I  No — no — 
and  we've  been  hunting  house  and  garden  for 
hours " 


'*  And  the  forest  ?"  questioned  Uncle  Jack,  the 
trapper  instinct  of  former  days  suddenly  re-awaken- 
ing. 

"  The  forest  is  waist-deep  with  snow  !  Besides 
we  beat  through  the  bush  everywhere,  and  there 
wasn't  a  track,  nor  broken  twig,  where  they  could 
have  passed."  His  torn  clothes  bore  evidence  to 
the  thoroughness  of  that  search. 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  27 

''  Nonsense,"  my  uncle  burst  out,  beginning  to 
bluster.  "  They've  been  driven  to  town  without 
leaving  word  ! " 

'*  No  sleigh  was  at  Chateau  Bigot  this  morn- 
ing," returned  Hamilton. 

''But  the  road,  Eric?"  I  questioned,  recall- 
ing how  the  old  manor-house  stood  well  back  in 
the  center  of  a  cleared  plateau  in  the  forest. 
**  Couldn't  they  have  gone  down  the  road  to  those 
Indian  encampments?  " 

''  The  road  is  impassable  for  sleighs,  let  alone 
walking,  and  their  winter  wraps  are  all  in  the 
house.  For  Heaven's  sake,  men,  suggest  somc- 
thino-!  Don't  madden  me  with  these  useless 
questions  !  " 

But  in  spite  of  Eric's  entreaty  my  excitable 
kinsman  subjected  the  frenzied  man  to  such  a  fire 
of  questions  as  might  have  sublimated  pre-natal 
knowledge.  And  I  stood  back  listening  and 
pieced  the  distracted,  broken  answers  into  some 
sort  of  coherency  till  the  whole  tragic  scene  at  the 
Chateau  on  that  spring  day  of  the  year  181S 
became  ineffaceably  stamped  on  my  memory. 

Causeless,  with  neither  warning  nor  the  slight- 
est  premonition  of  danger,  the  greatest  curse 
which  can  befall  a  man  came  upon  my  friend 
Eric  Hamilton.  However  fond  a  husband  may 
be,  there  are  things  worse  for  his  wife  than  death 
which  he  may  well  dread,  and  it  was  one  of  these 
tragedies  which  almost  drove  poor  Hamilton  out 
of  his  reason  and  changed  the  whole  course  of  my 
own  life.     In  broad  daylight,  his  young  wife  and 


28  Lords  of  the  North 

infant  son  disappeared  as  suddenly  and  completely 
as  if  blotted  out  of  existence. 

That  morning,  Eric  light-heartedly  kissed  wife 
and  child  good-by  and  waved  them  a  farewell  that 
was  to  be  the  last.  He  rode  down  the  winding 
forest  path  to  Quebec  and  they  stood  where  the 
Chateau  garden  merged  into  the  forest  of  Charles- 
bourg  IMountain.  At  noon,  when  he  returned, 
for  him  there  existed  neither  wife  nor  child.  For 
any  trace  of  them  that  could  be  found,  both 
might  have  been  supernaturally  spirited  away. 
The  great  house,  that  had  re-echoed  to  the  boy's 
prattle,  was  deathly  still ;  and  neither  wife,  nor 
child,  answered  his  call.  The  nurse  was  summoned. 
She  was  positive  Madame  was  amusing  the  boy 
across  the  hall,  and  reassuringly  bustled  off  to 
find  mother  and  son  in  the  next  room,  and  the 
next,  and  yet  the  next ;  to  discover  each  in  suc- 
cession empty. 

Alarm  spread  to  the  Chateau  servants.  The 
simple  habitant  maids  were  questioned,  but  their 
only  response  was  white-faced,  blank  amazement. 

Madame  not  returned ! 

Madame  not  back ! 

Moyi  Dieii !  What  had  happened?  And  all 
the  superstition  of  hillside  lore  added  to  the  fear 
on  each  anxious  face.  Shortly  after  Monsieur 
went  to  the  city,  Madatne  had  taken  her  little  son 
out  as  usual  for  a  morning  airing,  and  had  been 
seen  walking  up  and  down  the  paths  tracked 
through  the  garden  snow.  Had  Monsieur  ex- 
amined the  clearing  between  the  house  and  the 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  29 

forest  ?  Monsieur  could  see  for  himself  the  snow 
was  too  deep  and  crusty  among  the  trees  for 
Madame  to  go  twenty  paces  into  the  woods.  Be- 
sides, foot-marks  could  be  traced  from  the  garden 
to  the  bush.  He  need  not  fear  wild  animals. 
They  were  receding  into  the  mountains  as  spring 
advanced.  Let  him  take  another  look  about  the 
open  ;  and  Hamilton  tore  out-doors,  followed  by 
the  whole  household  ;  but  from  the  Chateau  in  the 
center  of  the  glade  to  the  encircling  border  of 
snow-laden  evergreens  there  was  no  trace  of  wife 
or  child. 

Then  Eric  laughed  at  his  own  growing  fears. 
Miriam  must  be  in  the  house.  So  the  search  of 
the  old  hall,  that  had  once  resounded  to  the 
drunken  tread  of  gay  French  grandees,  began 
again.  From  hidden  chamber  in  the  vaulted 
cellar  to  attic  rooms  above,  not  a  corner  of  the 
Chateau  was  left  unexplored.  Had  any  one  come 
and  driven  her  to  the  city  ?  But  that  was  impos- 
sible. The  roads  were  drifted  the  height  of  a 
horse  and  there  were  no  marks  of  sleigh  runners 
on  either  side  of  the  riding  path.  Could  she 
possibly  have  ventured  a  few  yards  down  the 
main  road  to  an  encampment  of  Indians,  whose 
squaws  after  Indian  custom  made  much  of  the 
white  baby?  Neither  did  that  suggestion  bring 
relief ;  for  the  Indians  had  broken  camp  early  in 
the  morning  and  there  was  only  a  dirty  patch  of 
littered  snow,  where  the  wigwams  had  been. 

The  alarm  now   became   a  panic.     Hamilton, 
half-crazed  and  unable  to  believe  his  own  senses, 


30  Lords  of  the  North 

began  wondering  whether  he  had  nightmare.  He 
thought  he  might  waken  up  presently  and  find 
the  dead  weight  smothering  his  chest  had  been 
the  boy  snuggling  close.  He  was  vaguely  con- 
scious it  was  strange  of  him  to  continue  sleeping 
with  that  noise  of  shouting  men  and  whining 
hounds  and  snapping  branches  going  on  in  the 
forest.  The  child's  lightest  cry  generally  broke 
the  spell  of  a  nightmare  ;  but  the  din  of  terrified 
searchers  rushing  through  the  woods  and  of  echoes 
rolling  eerily  back  from  the  white  hills  convinced 
him  this  was  no  dream-land.  Then,  the  distinct 
crackle  of  trampled  brushwood  and  the  scratch 
of  spines  across  his  face  called  him  back  to  an 
unendurable  reality. 

"  The  thing  is  utterly  impossible,  Hamilton," 
I  cried,  when  in  short  jerky  sentences,  as  if  afraid 
to  give  thought  rein,  he  had  answered  my  uncle's 
questioning.  ''  Impossible !  Utterly  impossi- 
ble !  " 

"  I  would  to  God  it  were !  "  he  moaned. 

''  It  was  daylight,  Eric?"  asked  Mr.  Jack  Mac- 
Kenzie. 

He  nodded  moodily. 

"  And  she  couldn't  be  lost  in  Charlesbourg 
forest?"  I  added,  taking  up  the  interrogations 
where  my  uncle  left  off. 

''  No  trace — not  a  footprint !  " 

*'  And  you're  quite  sure  she  isn't  in  the  house  ?  ** 
plied  my  relative. 

"  Quite !  "  he  answered  passionately. 

"  And  there  was  an  Indian  encampment  a  few 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  31 

yards  down  the  road  ?  "  continued  Mr.  ]\IacKenzie, 
undeterred. 

"  Oh  !  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  "  he  asked 
petulantly,  springing  to  his  feet.  *'  They'd  moved 
off  long  before  I  went  back.  Besides,  Indians 
don't  run  off  with  white  women.  Haven't  I  spent 
my  life  among  them  ?  I  should  know  their 
ways ! 

**  But  my  dear  fellow  !  "  responded  the  elder 
trader,  "  so  do  I  know  their  ways.  If  she  isn't  in 
the  Chateau  and  isn't  in  the  woods  and  isn't  in  the 
garden,  can't  you  see,  the  Indian  encampment  is 
the  only  possible  explanation  ?  " 

The  lines  on  his  face  deepened.  Fire  flashed 
from  his  gleaming  eyes,  and  if  ever  I  have  seen 
murder  written  on  the  countenance  of  man,  it  was 
on  Hamilton's. 

*'  What  tribe  were  they,  anyway  ? "  I  asked, 
tr>'ing  to  speak  indifferently,  for  every  question 
was  knife-play  on  a  wound. 

"  Mongrel  curs,  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other, 
Iroquois  canoemen,  French  half-breeds  inter- 
married with  Sioux  squaws  !  They're  all  connected 
with  the  North-West  Company's  crews.  The 
Nor'-Westers  leave  here  for  Fort  William  when 
the  ice  breaks  up.  This  riff-raff  will  follow  in 
their  own  dug-outs !  " 

"  Know  any  of  them  ?  "  persisted  my  uncle. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I— Let  me  see  !  By  Jove  ! 
Yes,  Gillespie !  "  he  shouted,  ''  Le  Grand  Diable 
was  among  them  !  " 

"W^t  about  Diable?"  I  asked,    pinning  him 


32  Lords  of  the  North 

down  to  the  subject,  for  his  mind  was  lost  in  angry 
memories. 

"  What  about  him  ?  He's  my  one  enemy  among 
the  Indians,"  he  answered  in  tones  thick  and  omi- 
nously low.  "  I  thrashed  him  within  an  inch  of 
his  life  at  Isle  a  la  Crosse.  Being  a  Nor*-Wester, 
he  thought  it  fine  game  to  pillage  the  kit  of  a 
Hudson's  Bay;  so  he  stole  a  silver-mounted  fowl- 
ing-piece which  my  grandfather  had  at  Culloden. 
By  Jove,  Gillespie !  The  Nor'-Westers  have  a 
deal  of  blood  to  answer  for,  stirring  up  those 
Indians  against  traders  ;  and  if  they've  brought 
this  on  me " 

"  Did  you  get  it  back?"  I  interrupted,  refer- 
ring to  the  fowling-piece,  neither  my  uncle,  nor  I, 
offering  any  defense  for  the  Nor'-Westers.  I 
knew  there  were  two  sides  to  this  complaint  from 
a  Hudson's  Bay  man. 

"  No  !  That's  why  I  nearly  finished  him  ;  but 
the  more  I  clubbed,  the  more  he  jabbered  imperti- 
nence, *  Cooloo  !  cooloo  !  qiL  importe  !  It  doesn't 
matter  ! '     By  Jove  !     I  made  it  matter  !  " 

"-  Is  that  all  about  Diable,  Eric  ?  "  continued  my 
uncle. 

He  ran  his  fingers  distractedly  back  through 
his  long,  black  hair,  rose,  and,  coming  over  to  me, 
laid  a  trembling  hand  on  each  shoulder. 

*'  Gillespie ! "  he  muttered  through  hard-set 
teeth.  *'  It  isn't  all.  I  didn't  think  at  the  time, 
but  the  morning  after  the  row  with  that  red 
devil  I  found  a  dagger  stuck  on  the  outside  of 
my   hut-door.    The    point  was  through  a  fresh 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  33 

sprouted  leaflet.     A  withered  twig  hung  over  the 

blade." 

"Man!  Are  you  mad?"  cried  Jack  Mac- 
Kenzie.  *'  He  must  be  the  very  devil  himself. 
You     weren't     married    then —      He     couldn't 


mean- 


"  I  thought  it  was  an  Indian  threat,"  interjected 
Hamilton,  ''  that  if  I  had  downed  him  in  the  fall, 
when  the  branches  were  bare,  he  meant  to  have 
his  revenge  in  spring  when  the  leaves  were  green  ; 
but  you  know  I  left  the  country  that  fall." 

**  You  were  wrong,  Eric  !  "  1  blurted  out  impet- 
uously, the  terrible  significance  of  that  threat 
dawning  upon  me.     "  That  wasn't  the  meaning  at 

all." 

Then  I  stopped  ;  for  Hamilton  was  like  a  palsied 
man,  and  no  one  asked  what  those  tokens  of  a 
leaflet  pierced  by  a  dagger  and  an  old  branch 
hanging  to  the  knife  might  mean. 

Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie  was  the  first  to  pull  him- 
self  together. 

"  Come,"  he  shouted.  ''  Gather  up  your  wits  ! 
To  the  campingground  !  "  and  he  threw  open  the 

door. 

Thereupon,  we  three  flung  through  the  club- 
room  to  the  astonishment  of  the  gossips,  who  had 
been  waiting  outside  for  developments  in  the 
quarrel  with  Colonel  Adderly.  At  the  outer 
porch,  Hamilton  laid  a  hand  on  ^Ir.  MacKenzie's 

shoulder. 

"  Don't  come,"  he  begged  hurriedly.     "  There  s 
a  storm  blowing.     It's  rough  weather,  and  a  rough 
3 


34  Lords  of  the  North 

road,  full  of  drifts !  Make  my  peace  with  the 
man  I  struck." 

Then  Eric  and  I  whisked  out  into  the  blackness 
o^  a  boisterous,  windy  night.  A  moment  later, 
our  horses  were  dashing  over  iced  cobble-stones 
with  the  clatter  of  pistol-shots. 

"  It  will  snow,"  said  I,  feeling  a  few  flakes  driven 
through  the  darkness  against  my  face ;  but  to 
this  remark  Hamilton  was  heedless. 

*'  It  will  snow,  Eric,"  I  repeated.  "  The  wind's 
veered  north.  We  must  get  out  to  the  camp  be- 
fore all  traces  are  covered.  How  far  by  the  Beau- 
port  road?" 

"Five  miles,"  said  he,  and  I  knew  by  the  sud- 
den scream  and  plunge  of  his  horse  that  spurs 
were  dug  into  raw  sides.  We  turned  down 
that  steep,  break-neck,  tortuous  street  leading 
from  Upper  Town  to  the  valley  of  the  St.  Charles. 
The  wet  thaw  of  midday  had  frozen  and  the  road 
was  slippery  as  a  toboggan  slide.  We  reined  our 
horses  in  tightly,  to  prevent  a  perilous  stumbling 
of  fore-feet,  and  by  zigzagging  from  side  to  side 
managed  to  reach  the  foot  of  the  hill  without  a 
single  fall.  Here,  we  again  gave  them  the  bit ; 
and  we  were  presently  thundering  across  the 
bridge  in  a  way  that  brought  the  keeper  out 
cursing  and  yelling  for  his  toll.  I  tossed  a  coin 
over  my  shoulder  and  we  galloped  up  the  elm- 
lined  avenue  leading  to  that  Charlesbourg  retreat, 
where  French  Bacchanalians  caroused  before  the 
British  conquest,  passed  the  thatch-roofed  cots  of 
habitants  and,  turning  suddenly  to  the  right,  fol- 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  35 

lowed  a  seldom  frequented  road,  where  snow  was 
drifted  heavily.  Here  we  had  to  slacken  pace, 
our  beasts  sinkingr  to  their  haunches  and  snorting- 
through  the  white  billows  like  a  modern  snow- 
plow. 

Hamilton  had  spoken  not  a  word. 

Clouds  were  massing  on  the  north.  Overhead 
a  few  stars  glittered  against  the  black,  and  the 
angry  wind  had  the  most  mournful  wail  I  have 
ever  heard.  How  the  weird  undertones  came  like 
the  cries  of  a  tortured  child,  and  the  loud  gusts 
with  the  shriek  of  demons ! 

"  Gillespie,"  called  Eric's  voice  tremulous  with 
anguish,  "  listen — Rufus — listen  !  Do  you  hear 
anything  ?  Do  you  hear  any  one  calling  for  help  ? 
Is  that  a  child  crying?" 

*'  No,  Eric,  old  man,"  said  I,  shivering  in  my 
saddle.  "  I  hear — I  hear  nothing  at  all  but  the 
wind. 

But  my  hesitancy  belled  the  truth  of  that 
answer;  for  we  both  heard  sounds,  which  no  one 
can  interpret  but  he  whose  well  beloved  is  lost  in 
the  storm. 

And  the  wind  burst  upon  us  again,  catching  my 
empty  denial  and  tossing  the  words  to  upper  air 
with  eldritch  laughter.  Then  there  was  a  lull,  and 
I  felt  rather  than  heard  the  choking  back  of  stifled 
moans  and  knew  that  the  man  by  my  side,  who 
had  held  iron  grip  of  himself  before  other  eyes, 
was  now  giving  vent  to  grief  in  the  blackness  of 
night. 

At  last  a  red  light  gleamed  from  the  window  of 


36  Lords  of  the  North 

a  low  cot.  That  was  the  signal  for  us  to  turn 
abruptly  to  the  left,  entering  the  forest  by  a  nar- 
row bridle-path  that  twisted  among  the  cedars. 
As  if  to  look  down  in  pity,  the  moon  shone  for  a 
moment  above  the  ragged  edge  of  a  storm  cloud, 
and  all  the  snow-laden  evergreens  stood  out 
stately,  shadowy  and  spectral,  like  mourners  for 
the  dead. 

Again  the  road  took  to  right-about  at  a  sharp 
angle  and  the  broad  Chateau,  with  its  noble  por- 
tico and  numerous  windows  all  alight,  suddenly 
loomed  up  in  the  center  of  a  forest-clearing  on  the 
mountain  side,  Where  the  path  to  the  garden 
crossed  a  frozen  stream  was  a  small  open  space. 
Here  the  Indians  had  been  encamped.  We  hal- 
looed for  servants  and  by  lantern  light  examined 
every  square  inch  of  the  smoked  snow  and  rub- 
bish heaps.  Bits  of  tin  in  profusion,  stones  for 
the  fire,  tent  canvas,  ends  of  ropes  and  tattered 
rags  lay  everywhere  over  the  black  patch.  Snow 
was  beginning  to  fall  heavily  in  great  flakes  that 
obscured  earth  and  air.  Not  a  thing  had  we 
found  to  indicate  any  trace  of  the  lost  woman  and 
child,  until  I  caught  sight  of  a  tiny,  blue  string 
beneath  a  piece  of  rusty  metal.  Kicking  the  tin 
aside,  I  caught  the  ribbon  up.  When  I  saw  on 
the  lower  end  a  child's  finely  beaded  moccasin,  I 
confess  I  had  rather  felt  the  point  of  Le  Grand 
Diable's  dagger  at  my  own  heart  than  have  shown 
that  simple  thing  to  Hamilton. 

Then  the   snow-storm  broke  upon   us  in   white 
billows  blotting  out    everything.     We   spread    a 


A  Strong  Man  is  Bowed  37 

sheet  on  the  ground  to  presence  any  marks  of  the 
campers,  but  the  drifting  wind  drove  us  indoors 
and  we  were  compelled  to  cease  searching.  All 
night  long  Eric  and  I  sat  before  the  roaring  grate 
fire  of  the  hunting-room,  he  leaning  forward  with 
chin  in  his  palms  and  saying  few  words,  I  offering 
futile  suggestions  and  uttering  mad  threats,  but 
both  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  We  knew 
enough  of  Indian  character  to  know  what  not  to 
do.  That  was,  raise  an  outcry,  which  might 
hasten  the  cruelty  of  Le  Grand  Diable. 


CHAPTER  III. 

NOVICE   AND    EXPERT. 

Though  many  years  have  passed  since  that 
dismal  storm  in  the  spring  of  1815,  when  Hamilton 
and  I  spent  a  long  disconsolate  night  of  enforced 
waiting,  I  still  hear  the  roaring  of  the  northern 
gale,  driving  round  the  house-corners  as  if  it  would 
wrench  all  eaves  from  the  roof.  It  shrieked  across 
the  garden  like  malignant  furies,  rushed  with  the 
boom  of  a  sea  through  the  cedars  and  pines,  and 
tore  up  the  mountain  slope  till  all  the  many 
voices  of  the  forest  were  echoing  back  a  thousand 
tumultuous  discords.  Again,  I  see  Hamilton 
gazing  at  the  leaping  flames  of  the  log  fire,  as  if 
their  frenzied  motion  reflected  something  of  his 
own  burning  grief.  Then,  the  agony  of  our  utter 
helplessness,  as  long  as  the  storm  raged,  would 
prove  too  great  for  his  self-control.  Rising,  he 
would  pace  back  and  forward  the  full  length  of 
the  hunting-room  till  his  eye  would  be  caught  by 
some  object  with  which  the  boy  had  played.  He 
would  put  this  carefully  away,  as  one  lays  aside 
the  belongings  of  the  dead.  Afterwards,  lanterns, 
which  we  had  placed  on  the  oak  center  table  on 
coming  in,  began  to  smoke  and  give  out  a  pungent, 
burning  smell,  and  each  of  us  involuntarily  walked 


Novice  and  Expert  39 

across  to  a  window  and  drew  aside  the  curtains 
to  see  how  daylight  was  coming  on.     The  white 
glare  of  early  morning  flooded  the  room,  but  the 
snow-storm  had  changed  to  driving  sleet  and  the 
panes  were  iced  from  corner  to  corner  with  frozen 
rain-drift.     How  we  dragged  through  two   more 
days,  while  the  gale  raved  with  unabated  fury,  I 
do  not  know.     Poor  Eric  was  for  rushing  into  the 
blinding  whirl,  that  turned  earth  and  air  into  one 
white  tornado  ;  but  he  could  not   see  twice  the 
length  of  his  own  arm,  and  we  prevailed  on  him  to 
come  back.     On  the.third  night,  the  wind  fell  like 
a  thing  that  had  fretted  out  its  strength.     Morning 
revealed  an  ocean  of  billowy  drifts,  crusted  over  by 
the  frozen  sleet  and  reflecting  a  white  dazzle  that 
made  one's  eyes  blink.     Great  icicles  hung  from 
the  naked  branches  of  the  sheeted  pines  and  snow 
was  wreathed  in  fantastic  forms  among  the  cedars. 
We  had  laid  our  plans  while  we  waited.     After 
lifting  the  canvas  from  the  camping-ground  and 
seeking  in  vain  for  more  trace  of  the  fugitives,  we 
despatched  a  dozen   different  search-parties  that 
very  morning,  Eric  leading  those  who  were  to  go 
on  the  river-side  of  the  Chateau,  and  I  some  well- 
trained  bushrangers  picked  from  the  habitants  of 
the  hillside,  who  could  track  the  forest  to  every 
Indian  haunt  v/ithin  a  week's  march  of  the  city. 
After  putting  my  men  on  a  trail  with  instructions 
to    send  back  an  Indian  courier  to  report  each 
night,  I  hunted  up  an  old  habitant  guide,  named 
Paul    Larocque,    who   had   often   helped    me   to 
thread  the  woods  of  Quebec  after  big  game.     Now 


4o  Lords  of  the  North 

Paul  was  habitually  as  silent  as  a  dumb  animal, 
and  sportsmen  had  nicknamed  him  The  Mute  ;  but 
what  he  lacked  in  speech  he  made  up  like  other 
wild  creatures  in  a  wonderful  acuteness  of  eye  and 
ear.  Indeed,  it  was  commonly  believed  among 
trappers  that  Paul  possessed  some  nameless  sense 
by  which  he  could  actu ally  y<f^/ the  presence  of  an 
enemy  before  ordinary  men  could  either  see,  or 
hear.  For  my  part,  I  would  be  willing  to  pit  that 
"  feel**  of  Paul's  against  the  nose  of  any  hound 
that  dog-fanciers  could  back. 

**  Paul,"  said  I,  as  the  habitant  stood  before  me 
licking  the  short  stem  of  an  inverted  clay  pipe, 
**  there's  an  Indian,  a  bad  Indian,  an  Iroquois, 
Paul," —  I  was  particular  in  describing  the 
Indian  as  an  Iroquois,  for  Paul's  wife  was  a  Huron 
from  Lorette —  "An  Iroquois,  who  stole  a 
white  woman  and  a  little  boy  from  the  Chateau 
three  days  ago,  in  the  morning." 

There,  I  paused  to  let  the  facts  soak  in  ;  for 
The  Mute  digested  information  in  small  morsels. 
Grizzled,  stunted  and  chunky,  he  was  not  at  all 
the  picturesque  figure  which  fancy  has  painted  of 
his  class.  Instead  of  the  red  toque,  which  artists 
place  on  the  heads  of  hahita^its,  he  wore  a  cloth 
cap  with  ear  flaps  coming  down  to  be  tied  under 
his  chin.  His  jacket  was  an  ill-fitting  garment, 
the  cast-off  coat  of  some  well-to-do  man,  and  his 
trousers  slouched  in  ample  folds  above  brightly 
beaded  moccasins.  When  I  paused,  Paul  fixed 
his  eyes  on  an  invisible  spot  in  the  snow  and 
ruminated.     Then  he  hitched  the  baggy  trousers 


Novice  and  Expert  41 

up,  pulled  the  red  scarf,  that  held  them  to  his 
waist,  tighter,  and,  taking  his  eyes  off  the  snow, 
looked  up  forme  to  go  on. 

"  That  Iroquois,  who  belongs  to  the  North- 
West  trappers " 

''Pays  d'En  Haiitf  asks  Paul,  speaking  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  and  they  all  disappeared 
with  the  woman  and  the  child  the  day  before  the 
storm." 

The  IMute's  eyes  were  back  on  the  snow. 

'*  Now,"  said  I,  *'  I'll  make  you  a  rich  man  if 
you  take  me  straight  to  the  place  where  he's 
hiding." 

Paul's  eyes  looked  up  with  the  question  of  how 
much. 

''  Five  pounds  a  day."  This  was  four  more  than 
we  paid  for  the  cariboo  hunts. 

Again  he  stood  thinking,  then  darted  off  into 
the  forest  like  a  hare ;  but  I  knew  his  strange, 
silent  ways,  and  confidently  awaited  his  return. 
How  he  could  get  two  pair  of  snow-shoes  and  two 
poles  inside  of  five  minutes,  I  do  not  attempt  to 
explain,  unless  some  of  his  numerous  half-breed 
youngsters  were  at  hand  in  the  woods ;  but  he 
was  back  again  all  equipped  for  a  long  tramp,  and 
as  soon  as  I  had  laced  on  the  racquets,  we  were 
skimming  over  the  drift  like  a  boat  on  billows. 
In  the  mazy  confusion  of  snow  and  underbrush, 
no  one  but  Paul  would  have  found  and  kept  that 
tangled,  forest  path.  Where  great  trunks  had 
fallen  across  the  way,  Paul  planted  his  pole  and 


42  Lords  of  the  North 

took  the  barrier  at  a  bound.  Then  he  raced  on 
at  a  gait  which  was  neither  a  run  nor  a  walk,  but 
an  easy  trot  common  to  the  coiiretirs-des-bois.  The 
encased  branches  snapped  like  glass  when  we 
brushed  past,  and  so  heavily  were  snow  and  icicles 
frozen  to  the  trees  we  might  have  been  in  some 
grotesque  crystal-walled  cavern.  The  Jiabita7it 
spoke  not  a  word,  but  on  we  pressed  over  the 
brushwood,  now  so  packed  with  snow  and  crusted 
ice,  our  snow-shoes  were  not  once  tripped  by 
loose  branches,  and  we  glided  from  drift  to  drift. 
In  vain  I  tried  to  discern  a  trail  by  the  broken 
thicket  on  either  side,  and  I  noticed  that  my 
guide  was  keeping  his  course  by  following  the 
marks  blazed  on  trees.  At  one  place  we  came  to 
a  steep,  clear  slope,  where  the  earth  had  fallen 
sheer  away  from  the  hillside  and  snow  had  filled 
the  incline.  First  prodding  forward  to  feel  if  the 
snow-bank  were  solid,  Paul  promptly  sat  down  on 
the  rear  end  of  his  snow-shoes,  and,  quicker  than 
I  can  tell  it,  tobogganed  down  to  the  valley.  I 
came  leaping  clumsily  from  point  to  point  with 
my  pole,  like  a  ski-jumping  Norwegian,  risking 
my  neck  at  every  bound.  Then  we  coursed  along 
the  valley,  the  habitant's  eyes  still  on  the  trees, 
and  once  he  stopped  to  emit  a  gurgling  laugh  at 
a  badly  hacked  trunk,  beneath  which  was  a 
snowed-up  sap  trough ;  but  I  could  not  divine 
whether  Paul's  mirth  were  over  a  prospect  of 
sugaring-off  in  the  maple-woods,  or  at  some  fool- 
ish habitant  who  had  tapped  the  maple  too  early. 
How  often   had   I  known    mv   cryide  to  exhaust 


Novice  and  Expert  43 

city  athletes  in  these  swift  marches  of  his  !  But 
I  had  been  schooled  to  his  pace  from  boyhood 
and  kept  up  with  him  at  every  step,  though  we 
were  going  so  fast  I  lost  all  track  of  my  bearings. 

"Where  to,  Paul?"  I  asked  with  a  vague  sus- 
picion that  we  w^ere  heading  for  the  Huron  village 
at  Lorette.     ''  To  Lorette,  Paul  ?  " 

But  Paul  condescended  only  a  grunt  and 
whisked  suddenly  round  a  headland  up  a  nar- 
row gorge,  which  seemed  to  lead  to  the  very 
heart  of  the  mountains  and  might  have  sheltered 
any  number  of  fugitives.  In  the  gorge  we 
stopped  to  take  a  light  meal  of  gingerbread 
horses — a  cake  that  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  the 
habitant — dried  herrings  and  sea  biscuits.  By  the 
sun,  I  knew  it  was  long  past  noon  and  that  we 
had  been  traveling  northwest.  I  also  vaguely 
guessed  that  Paul's  object  was  to  intercept  the 
North-West  trappers,  if  they  had  planned  to  slip 
away  from  the  St.  Lawrence  through  the  bush  to 
the  Upper  Ottawa,  where  they  could  meet  north- 
bound boats.  But  not  one  syllable  had  my  taci- 
turn guide  uttered.  Clambering  up  the  steep, 
snowy  banks  of  the  gorge,  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  upper  reaches  of  a  mountain,  where  the  trees 
fell  away  in  scraggy  clumps  and  the  snow  stretched 
up  clear  and  unbroken  to  the  hill-crest.  Paul 
grunted,  licked  his  pipe-stem  significantly  and 
pointed  his  pole  to  the  hill-top.  The  dark  peak 
of  a  solitary  wigwam  appeared  above  the  snow. 
He  pointed  again  to  the  fringe  of  woods  below 
us.     A  dozen   wigwams  were  visible  among  the 


44  Lords  of  the  North 

trees  and  smoke  curled  up  from  a  central  camp- 
fire. 

*'  Vot/a,  3Ionsicur  ?  "  said  the  habitajit,  which 
made  four  words  for  that  day. 

The  Mute  then  fell  to  my  rear  and  we  first  ap- 
proached the  general  camp.  The  campers  were 
evidently  thieves  as  well  as  hunters  ;  for  frozen 
pork  hung  with  venison  from  the  branches  of 
several  trees.  The  sap  trough  might  also  have 
belonged  to  them,  which  would  explain  Paul's 
laugh,  as  the  whole  paraphernalia  of  a  sugaring- 
off  was  on  the  outskirts  of  the  encampment. 

"  Not  the  Indians  we're  after,"  said  I,  noting 
the  signs  of  permanency ;  but  Paul  Larocque 
shoved  me  forward  with  the  end  of  his  pole  and 
a  curious,  almost  intelligent,  expression  came  on 
the  dull,  pock-pitted  face.  Strangely  enough,  as 
I  looked  over  my  shoulder  to  the  guide,  I  caught 
sight  of  an  Indian  figure  climbing  up  the  bank  in 
our  very  tracks.  The  significance  of  this  incident 
was  to  reveal  itself  later. 

As  usual,  a  pack  of  savage  dogs  flew  out  to  an- 
nounce our  coming  with  furious  barking.  But  I 
declare  the  habitant  was  so  much  like  any  ragged 
Indian,  the  creatures  recognized  him  and  left  off 
their  vicious  snarl.  Only  the  shrill-voiced  children, 
who  rushed  from  the  wigwams,  evinced  either 
surprise  or  interest  in  our  arrival.  Men  and 
women  were  haunched  about  the  fire,  above  which 
simmered  several  pots  with  the  savory  odor  of 
cooking  meat.  I  do  not  think  a  soul  of  the  com- 
pany as  much  as  turned  a  head  on  our  approach. 


Novice  and  Expert  45 

Though  they  saw  us  plainly,  they  sat  stolid  and 
imperturbable,  after  the  manner  of  their  race, 
waiting  for  us  to  announce  ourselves.  Some  of 
the  squaws  and  half-breed  women  were  heaping 
bark  on  the  fire.  Indians  sat  straight-backed  round 
the  circle.  White  men,  vagabond  trappers  from 
anywhere  and  everywhere,  lay  in  all  variety  of  lazy 
attitudes  on  buffalo  robes  and  caribou  skins. 

I  had  known,  as  every  one  familiar  with  Quebec's 
family  histories  must  know,  that  the  sons  of  old 
seigneurs  sometimes  inherited  the  adventurous 
spirit,  which  led  their  ancestors  of  three  centuries 
ago  to  exchange  the  gayeties  of  the  French  court 
for  the  wild  life  of  the  new  world.  I  was  also 
aware  this  spirit  frequently  transformed  seigneurs 
into  bush-rangers  and  descendants  of  the  royal 
blood  into  coureurs-des-bois.  But  it  is  one  thing 
to  know  a  fact,  another  to  see  that  fact  in  living 
embodiment  ;  and  in  this  case,  the  living  embodi- 
ment was  Louis  Laplante,  a  school-fellow  of  Laval, 
whom,  to  my  amazement,  I  now  saw,  with  a  beard 
of  some  months*  growth  and  clad  in  buckskin, 
lying  at  full  length  on  his  back  among  that  villain- 
ous band  of  nondescript  trappers.  Something  of 
the  surprise  I  felt  must  have  shown  on  my  face, 
for  as  Louis  recognized  me  he  uttered  a  shout  of 
laughter. 

**  Hullo,  Gillespie  !  "  he  called  with  the  saucy 
nonchalance  which  made  him  both  a  favorite  and 
a  torment  at  the  seminary.  '*  Are  you  among  the 
prophets  ?  "  and  he  sat  up  making  room  for  me 
on  his  buffalo  robe. 


46  Lords  of  the  North 

"  I'll  wager,  Louis,"  said  I,  shaking  his  hand 
heartily  and  accepting  the  proffered  seat,  *'  I'll 
wager  it*s  prophets  spelt  with  an  *  f '  brings  you 
here."  For  the  young  rake  had  been  one  of  the 
most  notorious  borrowers  at  the  seminary. 

"Good  boy!  "  laughed  he,  giving  my  shoulder 
a  clap.  **  I  see  your  time  was  not  wasted  with 
me.  Now,  what  the  devil,"  he  asked  as  I  surveyed 
the  motley  throng  of  fat,  coarse-faced  squaws  and 
hard-looking  men  who  surrounded  him,  "  now, 
what  the  devil's  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  What's  the  same,  to  yourself,  Louis  lad  ?  "  said 
I.  He  laughed  the  merry,  heedless  laugh  that 
had  been  the  distraction  of  the  class-room. 

"  Do  you  need  to  ask  with  such  a  galaxy  of  nut- 
brown  maidens  ?  "  and  Louis  looked  with  the  as- 
surance of  privileged  impudence  straight  across  the 
fire  into  the  hideous,  angry  face  of  a  big  squaw, 
who  was  glaring  at  me.  The  creature  was  one  to 
command  attention.  She  might  have  been  a  great, 
bronze  statue,  a  type  of  some  ancient  goddess,  a 
symbol  of  fury,  or  cruelty.  Her  eyes  fastened 
themselves  on  mine  and  held  me,  whether  I  would 
or  no,  while  her  whole  face  darkened. 

"  The  lady  evidently  objects  to  having  her  place 
usurped,  Louis,"  I  remarked,  for  he  was  watching 
the  silent  duel  between  the  native  woman's  ques- 
tioning eyes  and  mine. 

**  The  gentleman  wants  to  know  if  the  lady  ob- 
jects to  having  her  place  usurped  ^"  called  Louis 
to  the  squaw. 

At  that  the  woman  flinched  and  looked  to  La- 


Novice  and  Expert  47 

plante.  Of  course,  she  did  not  understand  our 
words ;  but  I  think  she  was  suspicious  we  were 
laughing  at  her.  There  was  a  vindictive  flash 
across  her  face,  then  the  usual  impenetrable  ex- 
pression of  the  Indian  came  over  her  features.  I 
noticed  that  her  cheeks  and  forehead  were  scarred, 
and  a  cut  had  laid  open  her  upper  lip  from  nose 
to  teeth. 

*'You  must  know  that  the  lady  is  the  daughter 
of  a  chief  and  a  fighter,"  whispered  Louis  in  my 
ear. 

I  might  have  known  she  was  above  common 
rank  from  the  extraordinary  number  of  trinkets 
she  wore.  Pendants  hung  from  her  ears  like  the 
pendulum  of  a  clock.  She  had  a  double  necklace 
of  polished  bear's  claws  and  around  her  waist  was 
a  girdle  of  agates,  which  to  me  proclaimed  that 
she  was  of  a  far-western  tribe.  In  the  girdle  was 
an  ivory-handled  knife,  which  had  doubtless  given 
as  many  scars  as  its  owner  displayed. 

"  What  tribe,  Louis  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I'll  be  hanged,  now,  if  I'm  not  jealous,"  he 
began.  '*  You'll  stare  the  lady  out  of  counte- 
nance  "     But  at  this  moment  the  Indian  who 

had  come  up  the  bank  behind  us  came  round  and 
interrupted  Laplante's  merriment  by  tossing  a 
piece  of  bethumbed  paper  between  my  comrade's 
knees. 

''  The  deuce !  "  exclaimed  Louis,  bulging  his 
tongue  into  one  cheek  and  glancing  at  me  with  a 
queer,  quizzical  look  as  he  unfolded  and  read  the 
paper. 


48  Lords  of  the  North 

If  he  had  not  spoken  I  might  not  have  turned ; 
but  having  turned  I  could  not  but  notice  two 
things.  Louis  jerked  back  from  me,  as  if  I  might 
try  to  read  the  soiled  note  in  his  hand,  and  in  rais- 
ing the  paper  displayed  on  the  back  the  stamp 
of  the  commissariat  department  from  Quebec 
Citadel. 

Neither  Laplante's  suppressed  surprise,  nor  my 
observations  of  his  movement,  escaped  the  big 
squaw.  She  came  quickly  round  the  fire  to  us 
both. 

"  Give  me  that,"  she  commanded,  holding  out 
her  hand  to  the  French  youth. 

"  The  deuce  I  will,"  he  returned,  twisting  the 
paper  up  in  his  clenched  fist.  Half  in  jest,  half 
in  earnest,  just  as  Louis  used  to  be  punished  at 
the  seminary,  she  gave  him  a  prompt  box  on  the 
ear.  He  took  it  in  perfect  good-nature.  And  the 
whole  encampment  laughed.  The  squaw  went 
back  to  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  Laplante 
leaned  forward  and  threw  the  paper  towards  the 
flames ;  but  without  his  knowledge,  he  overshot 
the  mark  ;  and  when  the  trader  was  looking  else- 
where the  big  squaw  stooped,  picked  up  the 
coveted  note  and  slipped  it  into  her  skirt  pocket. 

"  Now,  Louis,  nonsense  aside,"  I  began. 

"With  all  my  soul,  if  I  have  one,"  said  he, 
lying  back  languidly  with  a  perceptible  cooling  of 
the  cordiality  he  had  first  evinced. 

I  told  him  my  errand,  and  that  I  wished  to 
search  every  wigwam  for  trace  of  the  lost  woman 
and  child.     He  listened  with  shut  eyes. 


Novice  and  Expert  49 

*'  It  isn*t,"  I  explained  in  a  low  voice,  eager  to 
arouse  his  interest,  ''  it  isn't  in  the  least,  La- 
plante,  that  we  suspect  these  people ;  but  you 
know  the  kidnappers  might  have  traded  the  cloth- 
ing to  your  people " 

"Oh!  Go  ahead !"  he  interjected  impatiently. 
"  Don't  beat  round  the  bush !  What  do  you  want 
of  me?" 

"  To  go  through  the  tents  with  me  and  help 
me.  By  Jove  !  Laplante  !  I  thought  at  least  a 
spark  of  the  man  would  suggest  that  without  my 
speaking,"  I  broke  out  hotly. 

He  was  on  his  feet  with  an  alacrity  that  brought 
old  Paul  Larocque  round  to  my  side  and  the 
squaw  to  his. 

"  Curse  you,"  he  cried  out  roughly,  shoving  the 
squaw  back.  For  a  moment  I  was  uncertain 
whether  he  were  addressing  the  woman  or  m^yself. 
"  You  mind  your  own  business  and  go  to  your 
Indian !  Here,  Gillespie,  I'll  do  the  tents  with 
you.  Get  off  with  you,"  he  muttered  at  the 
squaw,  rumbling  out  a  lingo  of  persuasive  exple- 
tives; and  he  led  the  way  to  the  first  wigwam. 

But  the  squaw  was  not  to  be  dismissed ;  for 
when  I  followed  the  Frenchman,  she  closed  in 
behind  looking  thunder,  not  at  her  abuser,  but  at 
me;  and  The  Mute,  fearing  foul  play  and  pole  in 
hand,  loyally  brought  up  the  rear  of  our  strange 
procession.  I  shall  not  retail  that  search  through 
robes  and  skins  and  blankets  and  boxes,  in  foul- 
smelling,  vermin-infested  wigwams.  It  was  fruit- 
less.  I  only  recall  the  lowering  face  of  the  big 
4 


50  Lords  of  the  North 

squaw  looking  over  my  shoulder  at  every  turn, 
with  heavy  brows  contracted  and  gashed  lips 
grinning  an  evil,  malicious  challenge.  I  thought 
she  kept  her  hands  uncomfortably  near  the  ivoiy 
handle  in  the  agate  belt ;  but  Larocque,  good  fel- 
low, never  took  his  beady  eyes  off  those  same 
hands  and  kept  a  grip  of  the  leaping  pole. 

Thus  we  examined  the  tents  and  made  a  circuit 
of  the  people  round  the  fire,  but  found  nothing 
to  reveal  the  whereabouts  of  Miriam  and  the 
child.  Laplante  and  I  were  on  one  side  of  the 
robe,  Larocque  and  the  squaw  on  the  other. 

"  And  why  is  that  tent  apart  from  the  rest  and 
who  is  in  it?"  I  asked  Laplante,  pointing  to  the 
lone  tepee  on  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

The  fire  cracked  so  loudly  I  became  aware  there 
was  ominous  silence  among  the  loungers  of  the 
camp.  They  were  listening  as  well  as  watching. 
Up  to  this  time  I  had  not  thought  they  were  pay- 
ing the  slightest  attention  to  us.  Laplante  was 
not  answering,  and  when  I  faced  him  suddenly  I 
found  the  squaw's  eyes  fastened  on  his,  holding 
them  whether  he  would  or  no,  just  as  she  had 
mine. 

"Eh!  man?"  I  cried,  seizing  him  fiercely,  a 
nameless  suspicion  getting  possession  of  me. 
"  Why  don't  you  answer?  " 

The  spell  was  broken.  He  turned  to  me  non- 
chalantly, as  he  used  to  face  accusers  in  the  school- 
days of  long  ago,  and  spoke  almost  gently,  with 
downcast  eyes,  and  a  quiet,  deprecating  smile. 

"  You   know,  Rufus,"  he  answered,  using  the 


Novice  and  Expert  51 

schoolboy  name.  '*  We  should  have  told  you 
before.  But  remember  we  didn't  invite  you  here. 
We  didn't  lead  you  into  it." 

''Well?"  I  demanded. 

"  Well,"  he  replied  in  a  voice  too  low  for  any 
of  the  listeners  but  the  squaw  to  hear,  "  there's  a 
very  bad  case  of  smallpox  up  in  that  tent  and 
we're  keeping  the  man  apart  till  he  gets  better. 
That,  in  fact,  is  why  we're  all  here.  You  must 
go.     It  is  not  safe." 

'*  Thanks,  Laplante,"  said  I.  *'  Good-by."  But 
he  did  not  offer  me  his  hand  when  I  made  to  take 
leave. 

*'  Come,"  he  said.  "  I'll  go  as  far  as  the  gorge 
with  you  ;  "  and  he  stood  on  the  embankment 
and  waved  as  we  passed  into  the  lengthening 
shadows  of  the  valley. 

Now,  in  these  days  of  health  officers  and  vacci- 
nation, people  can  have  no  idea  of  the  terrors  of 
a  smallpox  scourge  at  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury. The  habitant  is  as  indifferent  to  smallpox 
as  to  measles,  and  accepts  both  as  dispensations  of 
Providence  by  exposing  his  children  to  the  con- 
tagion as  early  as  possible  ;  but  I  was  not  so 
minded,  and  hurried  down  the  gorge  as  fast  as  my 
snow-shoes  would  carry  me.  Then  I  remembered 
that  the  Indian  population  of  the  north  had  been 
reduced  to  a  skeleton  of  its  former  numbers  by 
the  pestilence  in  1780,  and  recalled  that  my  Uncle 
Jack  had  said  the  native's  superstitious  dread  of 
this  disease  knew  no  bounds.  That  recollection 
checked  my  sudden  flight.     If  the  Indians   had 


52  Lords  of  the  North 

such  fear,  why  had  this  band  camped  within  a 
mile  of  the  pest  tent?  It  would  be  more  like 
Indian  character  to  reverse  Samaritan  practises 
and  leave  the  victim  to  die.  This  man  might,  of 
course,  be  a  French-Canadian  trapper,  but  I  would 
take  no  risks  of  a  trick,  so  I  ordered  Paul  to  lead 
me  back  to  that  tepee. 

The  Mute  seemed  to  understand  I  had  no  wish 
to  be  seen  by  the  campers.  He  skirted  round  the 
base  of  the  hill  till  we  were  on  the  side  remote 
from  the  tribe.  Then  he  motioned  me  to  remain 
in  the  gorge  while  he  scrambled  up  the  cliff  to 
reconnoitre.  I  knew  he  received  a  surprise  as 
soon  as  his  head  was  on  a  level  with  the  top  of 
the  bank;  for  he  curled  himself  up  behind  a 
snow-pile  and  gave  a  low  whistle  for  me.  I  was 
beside  him  with  one  bound.  We  were  not  twenty 
pole-lengths  from  the  wigwam.  There  was  no 
appearance  of  life.  The  tent  flaps  had  been  laced 
up  and  a  solitary  watch-dog  was  tied  to  a  stake 
before  the  entrance,  Down  the  valley  the  setting 
sun  shone  through  the  naked  trees  like  a  wall  of 
fire,  and  dyed  all  the  glistening  snow-drifts  prim- 
rose and  opal.  At  one  place  in  the  forest  the  red 
light  burst  through  and  struck  against  the  tent  on 
the  hill-top,  giving  the  skins  a  peculiar  appearance 
of  being  streaked  with  blood.  The  faintest  breath 
of  wind,  a  mere  sigh  of  moving  air-currents  peculiar 
to  snow-padded  areas,  came  up  from  the  woods 
with  far-away  echoes  of  the  trappers'  voices.  Per- 
haps this  was  heard  by  the  watch-dog,  or  it  may 
have  felt  the  disturbing  presence  of  my  half-wild 


Novice  and  Expert  53 

habitant  guide ;  for  it  sat  back  on  its  haunches 
and  throwing  up  its  head,  let  out  the  most  doleful 
howlings  imaginable. 

"  Oh !  Monsieur,''  shuddered  out  the  super- 
stitious habitant  shivering  like  an  aspen  leaf, 
"  sick  man  moan, — moan, — moan  hard  !  He  die, 
Mo7isieur,  he  die,  he  die  now  when  dog  cry  lak 
dat,"  and  full  of  fear  he  scrambled  down  into  the 
gorge,  making  silent  gestures  for  me  to  follow. 

For  a  time — but  not  long,  I  must  acknowledge 
— I  lay  there  alone,  watching  and  listening.  Paul's 
ears  might  hear  the  moans  of  a  sick  man,  mine 
could  not :  nor  would  I  return  to  the  Chateau 
without  ascertaining  for  a  certainty  what  was  in 
that  wigwam.  Slipping  off  the  snow-shoes,  I  rose 
and  tip-toed  over  the  snow  with  the  full  intention 
of  silencing  the  dog  with  my  pole  ;  but  I  was 
suddenly  arrested  by  the  distinct  sound  of  pain- 
racked  groaning.  Then  the  brute  of  a  dog  detected 
my  approach  and  with  a  furious  leaping  that 
almost  hung  him  with  his  owni  rope  set  up  a 
vicious  barking.  Suddenly  the  black  head  of  an 
Indian,  or  trapper,  popped  through  the  tent  flaps 
and  a  voice  shouted  in  perfect  English — "Go 
away  !  Go   away  !  The  pest !  The  pest !  " 

"  Who  has  smallpox  ?  "  I  bawled  back. 

"A  trader,  a  Nor'-Wester,"  said  he.  "If  you 
have  anything  for  him  lay  it  on  the  snow  and  I'll 
come  for  it." 

As  honor  pledged  me  to  serve  Hamilton  until 
he  found  his  wife,  I  was  not  particularly  anxious 
to  exchange  civilities  at  close  range  with  a  man 


54  Lords  of  the  North 

from  a  smallpox  tent ;  so  I  quickly  retraced  my 
way  to  the  gorge  and  hurried  homeward  with 
The  Mute.  My  old  school-fellow's  sudden  change 
towards  me  when  he  received  the  letter  written 
on  Citadel  paper,  and  the  big  squaw's  suspicion  of 
my  every  movement,  now  came  back  to  me  with  a 
significance  I  had  not  felt  when  I  was  at  the  camp. 
Either  intuitions  like  those  of  my  habitant  guide, 
which  instinctively  put  out  feelers  with  the 
caution  of  an  insect's  antennae  for  the  presence 
of  vague,  unknown  evil,  lay  dormant  in  my  own 
nature  and  had  been  aroused  by  the  incidents  at 
the  camp,  or  else  the  mind,  by  the  mere  fact  of 
holding  information  in  solution,  widens  its  own 
knowledge.  For  now,  in  addition  to  the  letter 
from  the  Citadel  and  the  squaw  3  animosity,  came 
the  one  missing  factor — Adderly.  I  felt,  rather 
than  knew,  that  Louis  Laplante  had  deceived  me. 
Had  he  lied  ?  A  lie  is  the  clumsy  invention  of 
the  novice.  An  expert  accomplishes  his  deceit 
without  anything  so  grossly  and  tangibly  honest 
as  a  lie  ;  and  Louis  was  an  expert.  Though  I  had 
not  a  vestige  of  proof,  I  could  have  sworn  that 
Adderly  and  the  squaw  and  Louis  were  leagued 
against  me  for  some  dark  purpose.  I  was  indeed 
learning  the  first  lessons  of  the  trapper's  life  :  never 
to  open  my  lips  on  my  own  affairs  to  another  man, 
and  never  to  believe  another  man  when  he  opened 
his  lips  to  me. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LAUNXHED   INTO   THE   UNKNOWN 

*'  You  should  have  knocked  that  blasted  quaran. 
tine's  head  off,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie, 
with  ferocious  emphasis.  I  had  been  relating  my 
experience  with  the  campers ;  and  was  recounting 
how  the  man  put  his  head  out  of  the  tent  and 
warned  me  of  smallpox.  But  my  uncle  was  a 
gentleman  of  the  old  school  and  had  a  fine  con- 
tempt for  quarantine. 

"Knocked  his  head  off,  knocked  his  head  off. 
Sir,"  he  continued,  explosively.  "  IMake  it  a 
point  to  knock  the  head  off  anything  that  stands 
in  your  way,  Sir " 

"  But  you  don't  suppose,"  I  expostulated,  about 
to  voice  my  own  suspicions. 

"  Suppose  !  "  he  roared  out.  *'  I  make  it  a  point 
never  to  suppose  anything.  I  act  on  facts,  Sir  I 
You  wanted  to  go  into  that  wigwam  ;  didn't  you  ? 
Well  then,  why  the  deuce  didn't  you  go,  and 
knock  the  head  off  anything  that  opposed  you  }  " 

Being  highly  successful  in  all  his  own  dealings, 
Mr.  Jack  IMacKenzie  could  not  tolerate  failure  in 
other  people.  A  month  of  vigilant  searching  had 
yielded  not  the  slightest  inkling  of  Miriam  and  the 
child  ;  and  this  fact  ignited  all  the  gunpowder  of 


56  Lords  of  the  North 

my  uncle's  fiery  temperament.  We  had  felt  so  sure 
Le  Grand  Diable's  band  of  vagabonds  would  hanoj 
about  till  the  brigades  of  the  North-West  Com- 
pany's tripmen  set  out  for  the  north,  all  our  efforts 
were  spent  in  a  vain  search  for  some  trace  of  the 
rascals  in  the  vicinity  of  Quebec.  His  gypsy 
nondescripts  would  hardly  dare  to  keep  the  things 
taken  from  Miriam  and  the  child.  These  would 
be  traded  to  other  tribes;  so  day  and  night,  Mr. 
MacKenzie,  Eric  and  I,  with  hired  spies,  dogged 
the  footsteps  of  trappers,  who  were  awaiting  the 
breaking  up  of  the  ice  ;  shadowed  voyageurs,  who 
passed  idle  days  in  the  dram-shops  of  Lower 
Town,  and  scrutinized  every  native  who  crossed 
our  path,  ever  on  the  alert  for  a  glimpse  of  Diable, 
or  his  associates.  Diligently  we  tracked  all  In- 
dian trails  through  Charlesbourg  forest  and  ex- 
amined every  wigwam  within  a  week's  march  of 
the  city.  Le  Grand  Diable  was  not  likely  to  be 
among  his  ancestral  enemies  at  Lorette,  but  his 
half-breed  followers  might  have  traded  with  the 
Hurons ;  and  the  lodges  at  Lorette  were  also 
searched.  Watches  were  set  along  the  St.  Law- 
rence, so  no  one  could  approach  an  opening  be- 
fore the  ice  broke  up,  or  launch  a  canoe  after  the 
water  had  cleared,  without  our  knowledge.  But 
Le  Grand  Diable  and  his  band  had  vanished  as 
mysteriously  as  Miriam.  It  was  as  impossible  to 
learn  where  the  Iroquois  had  gone  as  to  follow 
the  wind.  His  disappearance  was  altogether  as 
unaccountable  as  the  lost  woman's,  and  this,  of 
itself,  confirmed  our  suspicions.     Had  he  sold,  or 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown         57 

slain  his  captives,  he  would  not  have  remained  in 
hiding;  and  the  very  fruitlessness  of  the  search 
redoubled  our  zeal. 

The  conviction  that  Louis  Laplante  had,  some- 
how or  other,  played  me  false,  stuck  in  my  mind 
like  the  depression  of  a  bad  dream.  Again  and 
again,  I  related  the  circumstances  to  my  uncle ; 
but  he  "  pished,"  and  "  tushed,"  and  "pooh- 
poohed,"  the  very  idea  of  any  kidnappers  remain- 
ing so  near  the  city  and  giving  me  free  run  of 
their  wigwams.  My  reasonless  persistence  was 
beginning  to  irritate  him.  Indeed,  on  one  occa- 
sion, he  informed  me  that  I  had  as  many  vagaries 
in  my  head  as  a  **  bed-ridden  hag,"  and  with  great 
fervor  he  "  wished  to  the  Lord  there  was  a  law  in 
this  land  for  the  ham-stringing  of  such  fool  idiots, 
as  that  habitant  Mute,  who  led  me  such  a  wild- 
goose  chase." 

In  spite  of  this  and  many  other  jeremiades,  I 
once  more  donned  snow-shoes  and  with  Paul  for 
guide  paid  a  second  visit  to  the  campers  of  the 
gorge.  And  a  second  time,  I  was  welcomed  by 
Louis  and  taken  through  the  wigwams.  The 
smallpox  tent  was  no  longer  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill ;  and  when  I  asked  after  the  patient,  Louis 
without  a  word  pointed  solemnly  to  a  snow- 
mound,  where  the  man  lay  buried.  But  I  did  not 
see  the  big  squaw,  nor  the  face  that  had  emerged 
from  the  tent  flaps  to  wave  me  off ;  and  when  I 
also  inquired  after  these,  Louis'  face  darkened. 
He  told  me  bluntly  I  was  asking  too  many  ques- 
tions and  began  to  swear  in  a  mongrel  jargon  of 


58  Lords  of  the  North 

French  and  English  that  my  conduct  was  an  in- 
sult he  would  take  from  no  man.  But  Louis 
was  ever  short  of  temper.  I  remembered  that  of 
old.  Presently  his  little  flare-up  died  down,  and 
he  told  me  that  the  woman  and  her  husband  had 
gone  north  through  the  woods  to  join  some  crews 
on  the  Upper  Ottawa.  From  the  talk  of  the 
others,  I  gathered  that,  having  disposed  of  their 
hunt  to  the  commissariat  department  at  the  Cita- 
del, they  intended  to  follow  the  same  trail  within 
a  few  days.  I  tried  without  questioning  to  learn 
what  crews  they  were  to  join  ;  but  whether  with 
purpose,  or  by  chance,  the  conversation  drifted 
from  my  lead  and  I  had  to  return  to  the  city  with- 
out satisfaction  on  that  point. 

Meanwhile,  Hamilton  rested  neither  night  nor 
day.  In  the  morning  with  a  few  hurried  words 
he  would  outline  the  plan  for  the  day.  At  night 
he  rode  back  to  the  Chateau  with  such  eager 
questioning  in  his  eyes  when  they  met  mine,  I 
knew  he  had  nothing  better  to  report  to  me,  than 
I  to  him.  After  a  silent  meal,  he  would  ride 
through  the  dark  forest  on  a  fresh  mount.  How 
and  where  he  passed  those  sleepless  nights,  I  do 
not  know.  Thus  had  a  month  slipped  away  ;  and 
we  had  done  ever\^thing  and  accomplished 
nothing.  Baffled,  I  had  gone  to  confer  with  Mr. 
Jack  IMacKenzie  and  had,  as  usual,  exasperated 
him  with  the  reiterated  conviction  that  Adderly 
and  the  Citadel  writing  paper  and  Louis  Laplante 
had  some  connection  with  the  malign  influence 
that  was  balking  our  efforts. 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown        59 

"  Fudge !  "  exclaims  my  uncle,  stamping  about 
his  study  and  puffing  with  indignation.  ''You 
should  have  knocked  that  blasted  quarantine's 
head  off !  " 

''You've  said  that  several  times  already,  Mr. 
MacKenzie,"  I  put  in,  having  a  touch  of  his  own 
peppery  temper  from  my  mother's  side.  ^*  What 
about  Adderly's  rage  ?  " 

"Adderly's  been  in  Montreal  since  the  night 
of  the  row.  For  the  Lord's  sake,  boy,  do  you  ex- 
pect to  find  the  woman  by  believing  in  that 
bloated  bugaboo  ?  " 

"  But  the  Citadel  paper?  "  I  persisted. 
"  Of  course  you've  never  been  told,  Rufus  Gil- 
lespie," he  began,  choking  down  his  impatience 
with  the  magnitude  of  my  stupidity,  "  that  the 
commissariat  buys  supplies  from  hunters?  " 

"  That  doesn't  explain  the  big  squaw's  suspi- 
cions and  Louis*  own  conduct." 

"  That  Louis  !  "  says  my  uncle.  "  Pah  !  That 
son  of  an  inflated  old  seigneur !  A  fig  for  the 
buck!  Not  enough  brains  in  his  pate  to  fill  a 
peanut ! " 

"  But  there  might  be  enough  evil  in  his  heart 
to  wreck  a  life,"  and  that  was  the  first  argument 
to  pierce  my  uncle's  scepticism.  The  keen  eyes 
glanced  out  at  me  as  if  there  might  be  some  hope 
for  my  intelligence,  and  he  took  several  turns 
about  the  room. 

*'  Hm  !  If  you're  of  that  mind,  you'd  better 
go  out  and  excavate  the  smallpox,"  was  his 
sententious   conclusion.      "And    if   it's  a  hoax, 


6o  Lords  of  the  North 

you'd  better "  and  he  puckered  his  brows  in 

thought. 

''  What  ?  "     I  asked  eagerly. 

''Join  the  traders'  crews  and  track  the  villains 
west,"  he  answered  with  the  promptitude  of  one 
who  decides  quickly  and  without  vacillation. 
"  O  Lord  !  If  I  were  only  young  !  But  to  think 
of  a  man  too  stout  and  old  to  buckle  on  his  own 
snow-shoes  hankering  for  that  life  again  !  "  And 
my  uncle  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

Now,  no  one,  who  has  not  lived  the  wild,  free 
life  of  the  northern  trader,  can  understand  the 
strange  fascinations  which  for  the  moment  eclipsed 
in  this  courteous  and  chivalrous  old  gentleman's 
mind  all  thought  of  the  poor  woman,  with  whom 
my  own  fate  was  interwoven.  But  I,  who  have 
lived  in  the  lonely  fastnesses  of  the  splendid  free- 
dom, know  full  well  what  surging  recollections  of 
danger  and  daring,  of  success  and  defeat,  of  ac- 
tion in  which  one  faces  and  laughs  at  death,  and 
calm  in  which  one  sounds  the  unutterable  depths 
of  very  infinity — thronged  the  old  trader's  soul. 
Indeed,  when  he  spoke,  it  was  as  if  the  sentence  of 
my  own  life  had  been  pronounced  ;  and  my  whole 
being  rose  up  to  salute  destiny.  I  take  it,  there 
is  in  every  one  some  secret  and  cherished  desire 
for  a  chosen  vocation  to  which  each  looks  forward 
with  hope  up  to  the  meridian  of  life,  and  to  which 
many  look  back  with  regret  after  the  meridian. 
Of  prophetic  instincts  and  intuitions  and  impres- 
sions and  feelings  and  much  more  of  the  same 
kind  going  under  a  different  name,  I  say  nothing. 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown         6i 

I  only  set  down  as  a  fact,  to  be  explained  how  it 
may,  that  all  the  way  out  to  the  gorge,  with  Paul, 
The  Mute  leading  for  a  third  time,  I  could  have 
sworn  there  would  be  no  corpse  in  that  snow- 
covered  grave.  For  was  it  not  written  in  my 
inner  consciousness  that  destiny  had  appointed 
me  to  the  wild,  free  life  of  the  north  ?  So  I  was 
not  surprised  when  Paul  Larocque's  spade  struck 
sharply  on  a  box.  Indians  sleep  their  last  sleep 
in  the  skins  of  the  chase.  Nor  was  I  in  the  least 
amazed  when  that  same  spade  pried  up  the  lid  of 
cached  provisions  instead  of  a  coffin.  Then  I  had 
ocular  proof  of  what  I  knew  before,  that  Louis  in 
word  and  conduct — but  chiefly  in  conduct,  which  is 
the  way  of  the  expert  had— lied  outrageously  to  me. 
When  the  ice  broke  up  at  the  end  of  April, 
hunters  were  off  for  their  summer  retreats  and  voya- 
geurs  set  out  on  the  annual  trip  to  the  Pays  d'En 
Haut.  This  year  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
had  organized  a  strong  fleet  of  canoemen  under 
Mr.  Colin  Robertson,  a  former  Nor'-Wester,  to 
proceed  to  Red  River  settlem.ent  by  way  of  the 
Ottawa  and  the  Sault  instead  of  entering  the  fur 
preserve  by  the  usual  route  of  Hudson  Bay  and 
York  Factory.  From  Le  Grand  Diable's  former 
association  with  the  North-West  Company  it  was 
probable  he  would  be  in  Robertson's  brigade. 
Among  the  voyageiirs  of  both  companies  there 
was  not  a  more  expert  canoeman  than  this  treach- 
erous, thievish  Iroquois.  As  steersman,  he  could 
take  a  crew  safely  through  knife-edge  rocks  with 
the  swift  certainty  of  arrow  flight.     In  spite  of  a 


62  Lords  of  the  North 

reputation  for  embodying  the  vices  of  white  man 
and  red — which  gave  him  his  unsavory  title — it 
seemed  unlikely  that  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company, 
now  in  the  thick  of  an  aggressive  campaign  against 
its  great  rival,  and  about  to  despatch  an  important 
flotilla  from  Montreal  to  Athabasca  by  way  of 
the  Nor'-Westers'  route,  would  dispense  with  the 
services  of  this  dexterous  voyageiir.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Nor'-Westers  might  bribe  the  Iroquois 
to  stay  with  them. 

Acting  on  these  alternative  possibilities,  Hamil- 
ton and  I  determined  to  track  the  fugitives  north. 
We  could  leave  hirelings  to  shadow  the  move- 
ments of  Indian  bands  about  Quebec.  Eric  could 
re-engage  with  the  Hudson's  Bay  and  get  passage 
north  with  Colin  Robertson's  brigade,  which  was 
to  leave  Lachine  in  a  few  weeks.  My  uncle  had 
been  a  famous  Bourgeois  of  the  great  North-West 
Company  in  his  younger  days,  and  could  secure 
me  an  immediate  commission  in  the  North-West 
Company.  Thus  we  could  accompany  the  voya- 
geiirs  and  runners  of  both  companies. 

Hamilton's  arrangements  were  easily  made  ;  and 
my  uncle  not  only  obtained  thi  commission  for 
me,  but,  with  a  hearty  clap  on  my  back  and  a 
"  Bravo,  boy !  I  knew  the  fur  trader's  fever 
would  break  out  in  you  yet !  "  pinned  to  the  breast 
of  my  inner  waistcoat  the  showy  gold  medallion 
which  the  Bourgeois  wore  on  festive  occasions. 
In  very  truth  I  oft  had  need  of  its  inspiriting 
motto  :  Fortitude  iri  Distress. 

Feudal  lords  of  the  middle  ages  never  waged 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown        63 

more  ruthless  war  on  each  other  than  the  two 
great  fur  trading  companies  of  the  north  at  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Pierre  de 
Raddison  and  Grosseh'er,  gentlemen  adventurers 
of  New  France,  first  followed  the  waters  of  the 
Outawa  (Ottawa)  northward,  and  passed  from 
Lake  Superior  (the  kelche  gamine  of  Indian  lore) 
to  the  great  unknown  fur  preserve  between  Hud- 
son Bay  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  ;  but  the  fur  mono- 
polists of  the  French  court  in  Quebec  jealously 
obstructed  the  explorers'  efforts  to  open  up  the 
vast  territor}^  De  Raddison  was  compelled  to 
carry  his  project  to  the  English  court,  and  the 
English  court,  with  a  liberality  not  unusual  in 
those  days,  promptly  deeded  over  the  whole 
domain,  the  extent,  locality  and  w^ealth  of  which 
there  was  utter  ignorance,  to  a  fur  trading  organ- 
ization,— the  newly  formed  "  Company  of  Ad- 
venturers of  England,  trading  into  Hudson's  Bay," 
incorporated  in  1670  with  Prince  Rupert  named 
as  first  governor.  If  monopolists  of  New  France, 
through  en\y,  sacrificed  Quebec's  first  claim  to 
the  unknown  land,  Frontenac  made  haste  to 
repair  the  loss.  Father  Albanel,  a  Jesuit,  and 
other  missionaries  led  the  way  westward  to  the 
Pays  d' En  Haut.  De  Raddison  twice  changed 
his  allegiance,  and  when  Quebec  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  British  nearly  a  century  later,  the  French 
traders  were  as  active  in  the  northern  fur  preserve 
as  their  great  rivals,  the  Ancient  and  Honorable 
Hudson's  Bay  Company;  but  the  Englishmen 
kept  near  the  bay  and  the  Frenchmen  with  their 


64  Lords  of  the  North 

coureurs-des-bois  pushed  westward  along  the  chain 
of  waterways  leading  from  Lake  Superior  and 
Lake  Winnipeg  to  the  Saskatchewan  and  Atha- 
basca. Then  came  the  Conquest,  with  the  down- 
fall of  French  trade  in  the  north  country.  But 
there  remained  the  coicreiirs-des-bois,  or  wood- 
rangers,  the  Metis,  or  French  half-breeds,  the 
Bois-Brule's,  or  plain  runners — so  called,  it  is  sup- 
posed, from  the  trapper's  custom  of  blazing  his 
path  through  the  forest.  And  on  the  ruins  of 
French  barter  grew  up  a  thriving  English  trade, 
organized  for  the  most  part  by  enterprising  citizens 
of  Quebec  and  Montreal,  and  absorbing  within 
itself  all  the  cast-off  servants  of  the  old  French 
companies.  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  X.  Y. 
and  North-West  Companies  towards  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  Of  these  the  most 
energetic  and  powerful — and  therefore  the  most 
to  be  feared  by  the  Ancient  and  Honorable  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company — was  the  North-West  Com- 
pany, "  Les  Bourgeois  de  la  Cornpagnie  dii  Nord- 
OuestJ'  as  the  partners  designated  themselves. 

From  the  time  that  the  North-Westers  gratui- 
tously poured  their  secrets  into  the  ears  of  Lord 
Selkirk,  and  Lord  Selkirk  shrewdly  got  control  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  and  began  to  infuse 
Nor'-Westers'  zeal  into  the  stagnant  workings  of 
the  older  company,  there  arose  such  a  feud  among 
these  lords  of  the  north  as  may  be  likened  only  to 
the  pillaging  of  robber  barons  in  the  middle  ages. 
And  this  feud  was  at  its  height  when  I  cast  in  my 
lot   with  the  North-West  Fur    Company.     Nor'- 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown         65 

Westers  had  reaped  a  harvest  of  profits  by  leav- 
ing the  beaten  track  of  trade  and  pushing  boldly 
northward  into  the  remote  MacKenzie  River 
region.  This  year  the  Hudson's  Bay  had  deter- 
mined to  enter  the  same  area  and  employed  a 
former  Nor'-Wester,  Mr.  Colin  Robertson,  to  con- 
duct a  flotilla  of  canoes  from  Lachine,  Montreal, 
by  way  of  the  Nor'-Westers'  route  up  the  Ottawa 
to  the  Saskatchewan  and  Athabasca.  But  while 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  could  ship  their  pel- 
tries directly  to  England  from  the  bay,  the  Nor'- 
Westers  labored  under  the  disadvantage  of  many 
delays  and  trans-shipments  before  their  goods 
reached  seaboard  at  Montreal.  Indeed,  I  have 
heard  my  uncle  tell  of  orders  which  he  sent  from 
the  north  to  England  in  October.  The  things 
ordered  in  October  would  be  sent  from  London  in 
March  to  reach  IMontreal  in  mid-summer.  There 
they  would  be  re-packed  in  small  quantities  for 
portaging  and  despatched  from  Montreal  with  the 
Nor' Western  voyageurs  the  following  May,  and  if 
destined  for  the  far  north  would  not  reach  the 
end  of  their  long  trip  until  October — two  years 
from  the  time  of  the  order.  Yet,  under  such  con- 
ditions had  the  Nor'-Westers  increased  in  pros- 
perity, while  the  Hudson's  Bay,  with  its  annual 
ships  at  York  Factory  and  Churchill,  declined. 

When  Lord  Selkirk  took  hold  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  there  was  a  change.  Once  a  feud  has  begun, 
I  know  very  well  it  is  impossible  to  apportion  the 
blame  each  side  deserves.  Whether  Selkirk  timed 
his  acts  of  aggression  during  the  American  war  of 
5 


66  Lords  of  the  North 

1812-1814,  when  the  route  of  the  Nor'-Westers 
was  rendered  unsafe — who  can  say  ?  Whether  he 
brought  colonists  into  the  very  heart  of  the  dis- 
puted territory  for  the  sake  of  the  colonists,  or  to 
be  drilled  into  an  army  of  defense  for  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company — who  can  say  ?  Whether  he 
induced  his  company  to  grant  him  a  vast  area  of 
land  at  the  junction  of  the  Red  and  Assiniboine 
rivers — against  which  a  minority  of  stockholders 
protested — for  the  sake  of  these  same  colonists, 
or  to  hold  a  strategical  point  past  which  North- 
Westers'  cargoes  must  go — who  can  say  ?  On 
these  subjects,  which  have  been  so  hotly  discussed 
both  inside  and  outside  law  courts,  without  any 
definite  decision  that  I  have  ever  heard,  I  refuse 
to  pass  judgment.  I  can  but  relate  events  as  I 
saw  them  and  leave  to  each  the  right  of  a  personal 
decision. 

In  1 81 5,  Nor'-Westers'  canoes  were  to  leave  Ste. 
Anne  de  Beaupr^,  twenty  miles  east  of  Quebec, 
instead  of  Ste.  Anne  on  the  Ottav/a,  the  usual 
point  of  departure.  We  had  not  our  full  comple- 
ment of  men.  Some  of  the  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  had  gone  northwest  overland  through  the 
bush  to  a  point  on  the  Ottawa  River  north  of 
Chaudiere  Falls,  where  they  were  awaiting  us,  and 
Hamilton,  through  the  courtesy  of  my  uncle,  was 
able  to  come  with  us  in  our  boats  as  far  as  La- 
chine. 

I  was  never  a  grasping  trader,  but  I  provided 
myself  before  setting  out  with  every  worthless 
gew-gaw  and  flashy  trifle    that  could  tempt  the 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown        67 

native  to  betray  Indian  secrets.  Lest  these  should 
fail,  I  added  to  my  stock  a  dozen  as  fine  new 
flint-locks  as  could  corrupt  the  soul  of  an  Indian, 
and  without  consideration  for  the  enemy's  scalp 
also  equipped  myself  with  a  box  of  wicked-look- 
ing hunting-knives.  These  things  I  placed  in 
square  cases  and  sat  upon  them  when  we  were  in 
barges,  or  pillowed  my  head  upon  them  at  night, 
never  losing  sight  of  them  except  on  long  port- 
ages where  Indians  conveyed  our  cargo  on  their 
backs. 

A  man  on  a  less  venturesome  quest  than  mine 
could  hardly  have  set  out  with  the  brigades  of 
canoemen  for  the  north  country  and  not  have 
been  thrilled  like  a  lad  on  first  escape  from  school's 
leading  strings.  There  we  were,  twenty  craft 
strong,  with  clerks,  traders,  one  steersman  and 
eight  willowy,  copper-skin  paddlers  in  each  long 
birch  canoe.  No  oriental  prince  could  be  more 
gorgeously  appareled  than  these  gay  voyageurs. 
Flaunting  red  handkerchiefs  banded  their  fore- 
heads and  held  back  the  lank,  black  hair.  Buck- 
skin smocks,  fringed  with  leather  down  the  sleeves 
and  beaded  lavishly  in  bright  colors,  were  drawn 
tight  at  the  waist  by  sashes  of  flaming  crimson, 
green  and  blue.  In  addition  to  the  fringe  of 
leather  down  the  trouser  seams,  some  in  our  com- 
pany had  little  bells  fastened  from  knee  to  ankle. 
It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  each  of  these  reckless 
denizens  of  forest  and  plain  pause  reverently  be- 
fore the  chapel  of  La  Bonne  Saint e  Anne^  cross 
himself,  invoke  her  protection  on  the  voyage  and 


68  Lords  of  the  North 

drop  some  offering  in  the  treasury  box  before 
hurrying  to  his  place  in  the  canoe.  One  Indian 
left  the  miniature  of  a  carved  boat  in  the  hands 
of  the  priest  at  the  porch.  It  was  his  votive 
gift  to  the  saint  and  may  be  seen  there  to  this 
day. 

As  we  were  embarking  I  noticed  Eric  had  not 
come  down  and  the  canoes  were  already  gliding 
about  the  wharf  awaiting  the  head  steersman's 
signal.  I  had  last  seen  him  on  the  church 
steps  and  ran  back  from  the  river  to  learn  the 
cause  of  his  delay.  Now  Hamilton  is  not  a  Cath- 
olic ;  neither  is  he  a  Protestant  ;  but  I  would  not 
have  good  people  ascribe  his  misfortunes  to  this 
lack  of  creed,  for  a  trader  in  the  far  north  loses 
denominational  distinctions  and  a  better  man  I 
have  never  known.  What,  then,  was  my  surprise 
to  meet  him  face  to  face  coming  out  of  the  chapel 
with  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks  and  floor- 
dust  thick  upon  his  knees  ?  Women  know  what 
to  do  and  say  in  such  a  case.  A  man  must  be 
dumb,  or  blunder ;  so  I  could  but  link  my  arm 
through  his  and  lead  him  silently  down  to  my 
own  canoe. 

A  single  wave  of  the  chief  steersman's  hand, 
and  out  swept  the  paddles  in  a  perfect  harmony 
of  motion.  Then  someone  struck  up  a  voyagejirs' 
ballad  and  the  canoemen  unconsciously  kept  time 
with  the  beat  of  the  song.  The  valley  seemed 
filled  with  the  voices  of  those  deep-chested,  strong 
singers,  and  the  chimes  of  Ste.  Anne  clashed  out  a 
k.sJl"  sweet  farewell. 


Launched  Into  the  Unknown         69 

"  Cheer  up,  old  man  I "  said  I  to  Eric,  who  was 
sitting  with  face  buried  in  his  hands.  "  Cheer  up  ! 
Do  you  hear  the  bells?  It's  a  God-speed  for 
you  i 


CHAPTER  V 
civilization's  veneer  rubs  off 

My  uncle  accompanied  our  flotilla  as  far  as 
Lachine  and  occupied  a  place  in  my  division  of 
canoes.  Many  were  the  admonitions  he  launched 
out  like  thunderbolts  whenever  his  craft  and  mine 
chanced  to  glide  abreast, 

*'  If  you  lay  hands  on  that  skunk,"  he  had  said, 
the  malodorous  epithet  being  his  designation  for 
Louis  Laplante,  **  If  you  lay  hands  on  that  skunk, 
don't  be  a  simpleton.  Skin  him,  Sir,  by  the  Lord, 
skin  him  !  Let  him  play  the  ostrich  act !  Keep 
your  own  counsel  and  work  him  for  all  you're 
worth  !  Let  him  play  his  deceitful  game !  By 
Jove!  Give  the  villain  rope  enough  to  hang  him- 
self !  Gain  your  end  !  Afterwards  forget  and 
forgive  if  you  like  ;  but,  by  the  Lord,  remember 
and  don't  ignore  the  fact,  that  repentance  can't 
turn  a  skunk  into  an  innocent,  pussy  cat  !  " 

And  so  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie  continued  to  warn 

me  all  the  way  from  Quebec  to  Montreal,  mixing 

his  metaphors  as  topers   mix  drinks.     But  I  had 

long  since  learned  not  to  remonstrate  against  these 

outbursts  of  explosive  eloquence — not  though  all 

the  canons  of  Laval  literati  should  be  outraged. 

*'  What,  Sir  ?  "  he  had  roared  out  when  I,  in  full  con- 

70 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        71 

ceit  of  new  knowledge,  had  audaciously  ventured 
to  pull  him  up,  once  in  my  student  days.  '*  What, 
Sir?  Don't  talk  to  me  of  your  book-fangled  bal- 
derdash !  Is  language  for  the  use  of  man,  or  man 
for  the  use  of  language?"  and  he  quoted  from 
Hamlet's  soliloquy  in  a  way  that  set  me  packing 
my  pedant  lore  in  the  unused  lumber-room  of 
brain  lobes.  And  so,  I  say,  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie 
continued  to  pour  instructions  into  my  ear  for  the 
venturesome  life  on  which  I  had  entered.  "  The 
lad's  a  fool,  only  a  fool,"  he  said,  still  harping  on 
Louis,  ''  and  mind  you  answer  the  fool  according 
to  his  folly  !  " 

"  Most  men  are  fools  first,  and  then  knaves, 
knaves  because  they  have  been  fools,"  I  returned 
to  my  uncle,  '*  and  I  fancy  Laplante  has  gradu- 
ated from  the  fool  stage  by  this  time,  and  is  a  full 
diploma  knave ! " 

"That's  all  true,"  he  retorted,  ''but  don't  you 
forget  there's  always  fool  enough  left  in  the  knave 
to  give  you  your  opportunity,  if  you're  not  a  fool. 
Joint  in  the  armor,  lad  !     Use  your  cutlass  there." 

Apart  from  the  pepper^^  discourses  of  my  kins- 
man, I  remember  very  little  of  the  trip  up  the  St. 
Lawrence  from  Ste.  Anne  to  Lachine  with  Eric 
sitting  dazed  and  silent  opposite  me.  We,  of 
course,  followed  the  river  channel  between  the 
Island  of  Orleans  and  the  north  shore  ;  and  when- 
ever our  boats  drew  near  the  mainland,  came 
whiffs  of  crisp,  frosty  air  from  the  dank  ravines, 
where  snow  patches  yet  lay  in  the  shadow.  Then 
the  fleet  would  sidle  towards  the  island  and  there 


72  Lords  of  the  North 

would  be  the  fresh,  spring  odor  of  damp,  uncovered 
mold,  with  a  vague  suggestiveness  of  violets  and 
May-flowers  and  ferns  bursting  with  a  rush  through 
the  black  clods.  The  purple  folds  of  the  moun- 
tains, with  their  wavy  outlines  fading  in  the  haze 
of  distance,  lay  on  the  north  as  they  lie  to-day  ; 
and  everywhere  on  the  hills  were  the  white  cots 
of  habitayit  hamlets  with  chapel  spires  pointing 
above  tree-tops.  At  the  western  end  of  the  island, 
where  boats  sheer  out  into  mid-current,  came  the 
dull,  heavy  roar  of  the  cataract  and  above  the 
north  shore  rose  great,  billowy  clouds  of  foam. 
With  a  sweep  of  our  paddles,  we  were  opposite  a 
cleft  in  the  vertical  rock  and  saw  the  shimmering, 
fleecy  waters  of  Montmorency  leap  over  the  dizzy 
precipice  churning  up  from  their  own  whirling 
depths  and  bound  out  to  the  river  like  a  panther 
after  prey. 

Now  the  Isle  of  Orleans  was  vanishing  on  our 
rear  and  the  bold  heights  of  Point  Levis  had 
loomed  up  to  the  fore ;  and  now  we  had  poked 
our  prows  to  the  right  and  the  sluggish,  muddy 
tide  of  the  St.  Charles  lapped  our  canoes,  while 
a  forest  of  masts  and  yard-arms  and  flapping  sails 
arose  from  the  harbor  of  Quebec  City.  The  great 
walls  of  modern  Quebec  did  not  then  exist ;  but 
the  rude  fortifications,  that  sloped  down  from  the 
lofty  Citadel  on  Cape  Diamond  and  engirt  the 
whole  city  on  the  hillside,  seemed  imposing  enough 
to  us  in  those  days. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  passed. 
The    sunlight    struck    across    the     St.    Charles, 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        73 

brightening  the  dull,  gray  stone  of  walls  and 
cathedrals  and  convents,  turning  ever\"  window  on 
the  west  to  fire  and  transforming  a  multitude  of 
towers  and  turrets  and  minarets  to  glittering  gold. 
Small  wonder,  indeed,  that  all  our  rough  trip- 
men  stopped  paddling  and  with  eyes  on  the  spire 
of  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires  muttered  prayers 
for  a  prosperous  voyage.  For  some  reason  or 
other,  I  found  my  own  hat  off.  So  v/as  Mr.  Jack 
MacKenzie's,  so  was  Eric  Hamilton's.  Then 
the  z'oyageiirs  fell  to  work  again.  The  canoes 
spread  out.  We  rounded  Cape  Diamond  and  the 
lengthening  shadow  of  the  high  peak  darkened 
the  river  before  us.  Always  the  broad  St.  Law- 
rence seemed  to  be  winding  from  headland  to 
headland  among  the  purple  hills,  in  sunlight  a 
mirror  between  shadowy,  forest  banks,  at  night, 
molten  silver  in  the  moon-track.  Afternoon 
slipped  into  night  and  night  to  morning,  and  each 
hour  of  daylight  presented  some  new  panorama 
of  forests  and  hills  and  torrents.  Here  the 
river  widened  into  a  lake.  There  the  lake  nar- 
rowed to  rapids ;  and  so  we  came  to  Lachine — 
La  Chine,  named  in  ridicule  of  the  gallant  explorer, 
La  Salle,  who  thought  these  vast  waterways  would 
surely  lead  him  to  China. 

At  Lachine,  ^Mr.  Jack  INIacKenzie,  with  much 
brusque  bluster  to  conceal  his  longings  for  the 
hfe  he  was  too  old  to  follow  and  many  cynical 
injunctions  about  ''skinning  the  skunk"  and 
**  knocking  the  head  off  anything  that  stood  in 
my  way"  and  ''always  profiting  from  the  follies 


74  Lords  of  the  North 

of  oth-^r  men" — "mind,  have  none  yourself," — 
parted  from  us.  Here,  too,  Eric  gripped  my 
hand  a  tense,  wordless  farewell  and  left  our  party 
for  the  Hudson's  Bay  brigade  under  Colin  Robert- 
son. 

It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me  why  our 
rivals  sent  that  brigade  to  Athabasca  by  way  of 
Lachine    instead  of    Hudson   Bay,  which    would 
have  been  two  thousand  miles  nearer.     We  Nor'- 
Westers  went  all  the  way  to  and  from  Montreal, 
solely  because  that  was  our  only  point  of  access 
to   the  sea ;  but   the  Hudson's    Bay  people   had 
their  own  Hudson  Bay  for  a  starting  place.     Why, 
in  their  slavish  imitation  of  the  methods,  which 
brought   us  success,  they  also  adopted   our  dis- 
advantages,   I    could    never    understand.     Birch 
canoes  and  good  tripmen  could,  of  course,  as  the 
Hudson's  Bay  men  say,  be  most  easily  obtained 
in  Quebec  ;  but  with  a  good  organizer,  the  same 
could  have  been  gathered  up  two  thousand  miles 
nearer  York  Factory,  on  Hudson  Bay.     Indeed,  I 
have  often  thought  the  sole  purpose  of  that  ex- 
pedition was  to  get   Nor'-Westers'    methods  by 
employing  discarded  Nor'-Westers  as  trappers  and 
voyagcurs.     Colin    Robertson,    the    leader,    had 
himself  been  a  Nor'-Wester  ;  and  all  the  men  with 
him  except  Eric  Hamilton  were  renegades,  *'  turn- 
coat traders,"  as  we  called  them.     But  I  must  not 
be  unjust  ;  for  neither   company  could  possibly 
exceed  the  other  in  its  zeal  to   entice  away  old 
trappers,  who    would    reveal    opponents'   secrets. 
Acting  on  my  uncle's  advice,  I  made  shift  to  pick 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        75 

up  a  few  crumbs  of  valuable  information.  Had 
the  Hudson's  Bay  known,  I  suppose  they  would 
have  called  me  a  spy.  That  was  the  name  I  gave 
any  of  them  who  might  try  such  tricks  with  me. 
The  General  Assembly  of  the  North-West  partners 
was  to  meet  at  Fort  William,  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Superior.  I  learned  that  Robertson's  brigade  were 
anxious  to  slip  past  cur  headquarters  at  Fort 
William  before  the  meeting  and  would  set  out 
that  very  day.  I  also  heard  they  had  sent  for- 
ward a  messenger  to  notify  the  Hudson's  Bay  gov- 
ernor  at  Fort  Douglas  of  their  brigade's  coming. 

Almost  before  I  realized  it,  we  were  speeding 
up  the  Ottawa,  past  a  second  and  third  and  fourth 
Ste.  Anne's  ;  for  she  is  the  voyagetirs  patron  saint 
and  her  name  dots  Canada's  map  like  ink-blots 
on  a  boy's  copybook.  Wherever  a  Ste.  Anne's  is 
now  found,  there  has  the  voyageur  of  long  ago 
passed  and  repassed.  In  places  the  surface  of 
the  river,  gliding  to  meet  us,  became  oily,  almost 
glassy,  as  if  the  wave-current  ran  too  fast  to  ripple 
out  to  the  banks.  Then  little  eddies  began 
whirling  in  the  corrugated  water  and  our  paddlers 
with  labored  breath  bent  hard  to  their  task.  By 
such  signs  I  learned  to  know  when  we  were  stem- 
ming the  tide  of  some  raging  waterfall,  or  swift 
rapid.  There  would  follow  quick  disembarking, 
hurried  portages  over  land  through  a  tangle  of 
forest,  or  up  slippery,  damp  rocks,  a  noisy  launch- 
ing far  above  the  torrent  and  swifter  progress 
when  the  birch  canoes  touched  water  again. 
Such  was  the  tireless  pace,  which  made  North-West 


76  Lords  of  the  North 

voyageurs  famous.  Such  was  the  work  the  great 
Bourgeois  exacted  of  their  men.  A  liberal  supply 
of  rum,  when  stoppages  were  made,  and  of  bread 
and  meat  for  each  meal — better  fare  than  was 
usually  given  by  the  trading  companies — did  much 
to  encourage  the  tripmen.  Each  man  was  doing 
his  utmost  to  out-distance  the  bold  rivals  following 
by  our  route.  The  Bourgeois  were  to  meet  at 
Fort  William  early  in  June.  At  all  hazards  we 
were  determined  to  notify  our  company  of  the 
enemy's  invading  flotilla;  and  without  margin  for 
accidents  we  had  but  a  month  to  cross  half  a 
continent. 

At  nightfall  the  fourth  day  from  the  shrine, 
after  a  tiresome  nine-mile  traverse  past  the  Chau- 
diere  Falls  of  the  Ottawa,  glittering  camp-fires  on 
the  river  bank  ahead  showed  where  a  fresh  relay 
of  canoemen  awaited  us.  They  were  immediately 
taken  into  the  different  crews  and  night-shifts  of 
paddlers  put  to  work.  It  was  quite  dark,  when 
the  new  hands  joined  us  ;  but  in  the  moonlight, 
as  the  chief  steersman  told  off  the  men  by  name, 
I  watched  each  tawny  figure  step  quickly  to  his 
place  in  the  canoes,  with  that  gliding  Indian 
motion,  which  scarcely  rocked  the  light  craft. 
There  came  to  my  crew  Little  Fellow,  a  short, 
thick-set  man,  with  a  grinning,  good-natured  face, 
who — despite  his  size — would  solemnly  assure 
people  he  was  equal  in  force  to  the  sun.  With 
him  was  La  Robe  Noire,  of  grave  aspect  and  few 
words,  mighty  in  stature  and  shoulder  power. 
There  were  five  or  six  others,  whose  names  in  the 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        77 

clangor  of  voices  I  did  not  hear.  Of  these,  one 
was  a  tall,  lithe,  swift-moving  man,  whose  cunning 
eyes  seemed  to  gleam  with  the  malice  of  a  ser- 
pent. This  canoeman  silently  twisted  into  sleep- 
ing posture  directly  behind  me. 

The  signal  was  given,   and  we  were   in   mid- 
stream again.     Wrapping  my  blanket  about  me, 
half  propped  by  a  bale  of  stuff  and  breathing  deep 
of  the  clear  air  with  frequent  resinous  whiffs  from 
the  forest  I   drowsed  off.     The   swish  of  waters 
rushing  past  and  the  roar  of  torrents,  which  I  had 
seen  and  heard   during  the  day,  still  sounded  in 
my  ears.      The  sigh  of  the  night-wind  through 
the   forest    came   like  the  lonely  moan  of  a  far- 
distant  sea,    and    I   was    sleepily   half   conscious 
that  cedars,    pines  and  cliffs  were  engaged   in  a 
mad  race  past  the  sides  of  the  canoe.     A  bed  in 
Avhich    one   may  not    stretch    at   random  is  not 
comfortable.     Certainly  my  cramped  limbs  must 
have  caused  bad  dreams.     A  dozen  times  I  could 
have  sworn  the  Indian  behind  me  had  turned  into 
a  snake  and  was  winding  round  my  chest  in  tight, 
smothering  coils.     Starting  up,  I  would  shake  the 
weight  off.     Once  I  suddenly  opened  my  eyes  to 
find    blanket   thrown    aside    and    pistol   belt   un- 
strapped.    Lying  back  eased,  I  was  dozing  again 
when  I  distinctly  felt  a  hand  crawl  stealthily  round 
the  pack  on  which  I  was  pillowed  and   steal  to- 
wards the  dagger  handle  in  the  loosened  belt.     I 
struck  at  it  viciously  only  to  bruise  my  fist  on 
my  dagger.     Now  wide  awake,  I  turned  angrily 
towards  the  Indian.     Not  a  muscle  of  the  still 


78  Lords  of  the  North 

figure  had  changed  from  the  attitude  taken  when 
he  came  into  the  canoe.  The  man  was  not  asleep, 
but  reclined  in  stolid  oblivion  of  my  existence. 
His  head  was  thrown  back  and  the  steely,  un- 
flinching eyes  were  fixed  on  the  stars. 

*'  It  may  not  have  been  you,  my  scowling 
sachem,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  but  snakes  have  fangs. 
Henceforth  I'll  take  good  care  you're  not  at  my 
back." 

I  slept  no  more  that  night.  Next  day  I  asked 
the  fellow  his  name  and  he  poured  out  such  a 
jumbled  mouthful  of  quick-spoken,  Indian  syl- 
lables, I  was  not  a  whit  the  wiser.  I  told  him 
sharply  he  was  to  be  Tom  Jones  on  my  boat,  at 
which  he  gave  an  evil  leer. 

Without  stay  we  still  pushed  forward.  The 
arrowy  pace  was  merciless  to  red  men  and  white ; 
but  that  was  the  kind  of  service  the  great  North- 
West  Company  always  demanded.  Some  ten 
miles  from  the  outlet  of  Lake  Nipissangue 
(Nipissing)  foul  weather  threatened  delay.  The 
Bourgeois  were  for  proceeding  at  any  risk  ;  but  as 
the  thunder-clouds  grew  blacker  and  the  wind 
more  violent,  the  head  steersman  lost  his  temper 
and  grounded  his  canoe  on  the  sands  at  Poi?it  a 
la  Croix.  Springing  ashore  he  flung  down  his 
pole  and  refused  to  go  on. 

"  Sacredie !  "  he  screamed,  first  pointing  to  the 
gathering  storm  and  then  to  the  crosses  that 
marked  the  fate  of  other  foolhardy  voyageurs, 
"  Allez  si  vous  voulez  !  Pour  moi  je  n'irai  pas  ; 
ne  voyez  pas  le  danger !  " 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        79 

A  hurricane  of  wind,  snapping  the  great  oaks  as 
a  chopper  breaks  kindling  wood,  enforced  his 
words.  Canoes  were  at  once  beached  and  tar- 
paulins drawn  over  the  bales  of  provisions.  The 
men  struggled  to  hoist  a  tent ;  but  gusts  of  wind 
tossed  the  canvas  above  their  heads,  and  before 
the  pegs  were  driven  a  great  wall  of  rain-drift 
drenched  every  one  to  the  skin.  By  sundown  the 
storm  had  gone  southeast  and  we  unrighteously 
consoled  ourselves  that  it  would  probably  disor- 
ganize the  Hudson's  Bay  brigade  as  much  as  it 
had  ours.  Plainly,  we  were  there  for  the  night. 
Poiyit  h  la  Croix  is  too  dangerous  a  spot  for 
navigation  after  dark.  With  much  patience  we 
kindled  the  soaked  underbrush  and  finally  got  a 
pile  of  logs  roaring  in  the  woods  and  gathered 
round  the  fire. 

The  glare  in  the  sky  attracted  the  lake  tribes 
from  their  lodges.  Indians,  half-breeds  and  shag- 
gy-haired whites — degenerate  traders,  who  had 
lost  all  taste  for  civilization  and  retired  with  their 
native  wives  after  the  fashion  of  the  north  country 
— came  from  the  Nipissangue  encampments  and 
joined  our  motley  throng.  Presently  the  natives 
drew  off  to  a  fire  by  themselves,  where  there  would 
be  no  white-man's  restraint.  They  had  either 
begged  or  stolen  traders'  rum,  and  after  the  hard 
trip  from  Ste.  Anne,  were  eager  for  one  of  their 
mad  boissons — a  drinking-bout  interspersed  with 
jigs  and  fights. 

Stretched  before  our  camp,  I  watched  the  gro- 
tesque figures  leaping  and  dancing  between  the 


So  Lords  of  the  North 

firelight  and  the  dusky  woods  Hke  forest  demons. 
With  the  leaves  rustling  overhead,  the  water  laving 
the  pebbles  on  the  shore,  and  the  washed  pine  air 
stimulating  one's  blood  like  an  intoxicant,  I  began 
wondering  how  many  years  of  solitary  life  it 
would  take  to  wear  through  civilization's  veneer 
and  leave  one  content  in  the  lodges  of  forest 
wilds.  Gradually  I  became  aware  of  my  sulky 
canoeman's  presence  on  the  other  side  of  the  camp- 
fire.  The  man  had  not  joined  the  revels  of  the 
other  voyageiirs  but  sat  on  his  feet,  oriental  style, 
gazing  as  intently  at  the  flames  as  if  spellbound 
by  some  fire-spirit. 

"  What's  wrong  with  that  fellow,  anyhow  ?  "  I 
asked  a  veteran  trader,  who  was  taking  last  pulls 
at  a  smoked-out  pipe. 

**  Sick — home-sick,"  w^as  the  laconic  reply. 

''  You'd  think  he  was  near  enough  nature  here 
to  feel  at  home  !     Where's  his  tribe  ?  " 

''  It  ain't  his  tribe  he  wants,"  explained  the 
trader. 

''What, then?"  I  inquired. 

''  His  wife,  he's  mad  after  her,"  and  the  trader 
took  the  pipe  from  his  teeth. 

"  Faugh  !  "  I  laughed.  ''  The  idea  of  an  Indian 
sentimental  and  love-sick  for  some  fat  lump  of  a 
squaw!    Come!    Come!   Am  I  to  believe  that  ?" 

"■  Don't  matter  whether  you  do,  or  not,"  re- 
turned the  trader.  *'  It's  a  fact.  His  wife's  a 
Sioux  chief's  daughter.  She  went  north  with  a 
gang  of  half-breeds  and  hunters  last  month  ;  and 
he's  been  fractious  crazy  ever  since." 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        8i 

"  What's  his  name?  "  I  called,  as  my  informant 
vanished  behind  the  tent  flaps. 

Again  that  mouthful  of  Indian  syllables,  unin- 
telligible and   unspeakable   for  me  was  tumbled 
forth.      Then   I   turned   to  the  fantastic   figures 
carousing  around  the  other  camp  fire.     One  form, 
in  particular,  I  seemed  to   distinguish  from  the 
others.     He  was  gathering  the  Indians  in  line  for 
some  native  dance  and  had  an  easy,  rakish  sort  of 
grace,  quite  different  from  the  serpentine  motions 
of  the  redskins.     By  a   sudden   turn,   his  profile 
was   thrown  against  the   fire   and   I   saw  that  he 
wore  a  pointed  beard.     He  was  no  Indian  ;  and 
like  a  flash  came  one  of  those  strange,  reasonless 
intuitions,  which  precede,  or  proceed  from,  the 
slow  motions  of  the  mind.     Was  this  the  avant- 
courier  of  the  Hudson's  Bay,  delayed,  like  our- 
selves, by  the  storm  ?     I  had  hardly  spelled  out  my 
own  suspicion,  when  to  the  measured  beatings  of 
the  tom-tom,  gradually  becoming  faster,  and  with 
a  low,  weird,  tuneless  chant,  like  the  voices  of  the 
forest,  the  Indians  began  to  tread  a  mazy,  wind- 
ing pace,  which  my  slow  eyes  could  not  follow, 
but  which  in  a  strange  way  brought  up  memories 
of  snaky  convolutions  about  the  naked  body  of 
some    Egyptian    serpent-charmer.     The    drums 
beat  faster.     The   suppressed  voices  were  break- 
ing  in  shrill,  wild,  exultant  strains,  and  the  meas- 
ured tread  had  quickened  from  a  walk  to  a  run 
and  from  a  swaying  run  to  a  swift,  labyrinthine 
pace,  which  has  no  name  in  English,  and  which  I 
can  only  liken   to  the  wiggling  of  a  green  thing 
6 


82  Lords  of  the  North 

under  leafy  covert.  The  coiling  and  circling 
and  winding  of  the  dancers  became  bewildering, 
and  in  the  centre,  laughing,  shouting,  tossing  up 
his  arms  and  gesticulating  like  a  maniac,  was  the 
white  man  with  the  pointed  beard.  Then  the 
performers  broke  from  their  places  and  gave  them- 
selves with  utter  abandon  to  the  wild  impulses  of 
wild  natures  in  a  wild  world  ;  and  there  was  such 
a  scene  of  uncurbed,  animal  hilarity  as  I  never 
dreamed  possible.  Savage,  furious,  almost  fero- 
cious like  the  frisking  of  a  pack  of  wolves,  that 
at  any  time  may  fall  upon  and  destroy  a  weaker 
one,  the  boisterous  antics  of  these  children  of  the 
forest  fascinated  me.  Filled  with  the  curiosity 
that  lures  many  a  trader  to  his  undoing,  I  rose 
and  went  across  to  the  thronging,  shouting, 
shadowy  figures.  A  man  darted  out  of  the  woods 
full  tilt  against  me.  *Twas  he  of  the  pointed 
beard,  my  suspect  oi  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 
Quick  as  thought  I  thrust  out  my  foot  and  tripped 
him  full  length  on  the  ground.  The  light  fell  on 
his  upturned  face.  It  was  Louis  Laplante,  that 
past-master  in  the  art  of  diplomatic  deception. 
He  snarled  out  something  angrily  and  came  to 
himself  in  sitting  posture.  Then  he  recognized 
me. 

"  Mo7i  Dieu  !  "  he  muttered  beneath  his  breath, 
momentarily  surprised  into  a  betrayal  of  aston- 
ishment. ""  You,  Gillespie  ?  "  he  called  out,  at 
once  regaining  himself  and  assuming  his  usual 
nonchalance.  "•  Pardon,  my  solemncholy !  I  took 
you  for  a  tree." 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        83 

"Granted,  your  impudence,"  said  I,  ignoring 
the  slight  but  paying  him  back  in  kind.  I  was 
determined  to  follow  my  uncle's  advice  and  play 
the  rascal  at  his  own  game.  "Help  you  up?" 
said  I,  as  pleasantly  as  I  could,  extending  my 
hand  to  give  him  a  lift  ;  and  I  felt  his  palm  hot 
and  his  arm  tremble.  Then,  I  knew  that  Louis 
was  drunk  and  this  was  the  fool's  joint  in  the 
knave's  armor,  on  which  ]\Ir.  Jack  MacKenzie 
bade  me  use  my  weapons. 

"  Tra-la  !  "  he  answered  with  mincing  insult. 
*'  Tra-la,  old  tombstone  !  Good-by,  my  mauso- 
leum !  Au  revoir,  old  death's-head  !  Adieu,  grave 
skull ! "  With  an  absurdly  elaborate  bow,  he 
reeled  back  among  the  dancers. 

''  Get  up,  comrade,"  I  urged,  rushing  into  the 
tent,  where  the  old  trader  I  had  questioned  about 
my  canoeman  was  now  snoring.  ''  Get  up,  man," 
and  I  shook  him.  "  There's  a  Hudson's  Ba}^  spy  !  " 

"  Spy,"  he  shouted,  throwing  aside  the  moose- 
skin  coverlet.   "  Spy  !     Who  ?  " 

"  It's  Louis  Laplante,  of  Quebec." 

"  Louis  Laplante  !  "  reiterated  the  trader.  "A 
Frenchman  employed  by  the  Hudson's  Bay! 
Laplante,  a  trapper,  with  them  !  The  scoundrel !  " 
And  he  ground  out  oaths  that  boded  ill  for  Louis. 

*'  Hold  on  ! "  I  exclaimed,  jerking  him  back. 
He  was  for  dashing  on  Laplante  with  a  cudgel. 
"  He's  playing  the  trapper  game  with  the  lake 
tribes." 

"  I'll  trapper  him,"  vowed  the  trader.  '*  How 
do  you  know  he's  a  spy?  " 


84  Lords  of  the  North 

"  I  don't  know,  really  know,"  I  began,  clumsily 
conscious  that  I  had  no  proof  for  my  suspicions, 
''  but  it  strikes  me  we'd  better  not  examine  this 
sort  of  suspect  at  too  long  range.  If  we're  wrong, 
we  can  let  him  go." 

"  Bag  him,  eh?"  queried  the  trader. 

''  That's  it,"  I  assented. 

"  He's  a  hard  one  to  bag." 

''  But  he's  drunk." 

"Drunk,  Oh!  Drunk  is  he?"  laughed  the 
man.  ''  He'll  be  drunker,"  and  the  trader  began 
rummaging  through  bales  of  stuff  with  a  noise  of 
bottles  knocking  together.  He  was  humming  in 
a  low  tone,  like  a  grimalkin  purring  after  a  full 
meal  of  mice — 


"  Rum  for  Indians,  when  they  come, 

Rum  for  the  beggars,  when  they  go, 
That's  the  trick  my  grizzled  lads 
To  catch  the  cash  and  snare  the  foe." 


"  What's  your  plan  ?  "  I  asked  with  a  vague 
feeling  the  trader  had  some  shady  purpose  in 
mind. 

"  Squeamish  ?  Eh  ?  You'll  get  over  that,  boy. 
I'll  trap  your  trapper  and  spy  your  spy,  and  Nor'- 
Wester  your  H.  B.  C. !  You  come  down  to  the 
sand  between  the  forest  and  the  beach  in  about 
an  hour  and  I'll  have  news  for  you,"  and  he 
brushed  past  me  with  his  arms  full  of  something 
I  could  not  see  in  the  half-light. 

Then,  as  a  trader,  began  my  first  compromise 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        85 

with  conscience,  and  the  enmity  which  I  thereby 
aroused  afterwards  punished  me  for  that  night's 
work.  I  knew  very  well  my  comrade,  with  the 
rough-and-ready  methods  of  traders,  had  gone 
out  to  do  what  was  not  right ;  and  I  hung  back 
in  the  tent,  balancing  the  end  against  the  means, 
our  deeds  against  Louis'  perfidy,  and  Nor'-West- 
ers' interests  against  those  of  the  Hudson's  Bay. 
It  is  not  pleasant  to  recall  what  was  done  between 
the  cedars  and  the  shore.  I  do  not  attempt  to 
justif}^  our  conduct.  Does  the  physician  justify 
medical  experiments  on  the  criminal,  or  the  sac- 
rificial priest  the  driving  of  the  scape-goat  into 
the  wilderness?  Suffice  it  to  say,  when  I  went 
down  to  the  shore,  Louis  Laplante  was  sitting  in 
the  midst  of  empty  drinking-flasks,  and  the  wily, 
old  Nor'-Wester  was  tempting  the  silly  boy  to  take 
more  by  drinking  his  health  with  fresh  bottles. 
But  while  Louis  Laplante  gulped  down  his  rum, 
becoming  drunker  and  more  communicative,  the 
tempter  threw  glass  after  glass  over  his  shoulder 
and  remained  sober.  The  Nor'-Wester  motioned 
me  to  keep  behind  the  Frenchman  and  I  heard 
his  drunken  lips  mumbling  my  own  name. 

''  Rufush — prig — stuck-up  prig — serve  him  tam 
right !  Hamilton's — sh — sh — prig  too — sho's  his 
wife.     Serve  'em  all  tam  right  !  " 

*' Ask  him  where  she  is,"  I  whispered  over  his 
head. 

"  Where's  the  gal  ?  "  demanded  the  trader,  shov- 
ing more  liquor  over  to  Louis. 

"  Shioux  squaw — Devil's  wife — how  you  say  it 


86  Lords  of  the  North 

in  English  ?  Lah  Grawnd  Deeahble,"  and  he 
mouthed  over  our  mispronunciation  of  his  own 
tongue.  "Joke,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  went  on.  "That 
wax-face  prig— slave  to  Shioux  Squaw.  Rufush 
— a  fool.  Stuffed  him  to  hish — neck.  INIade  him 
believe  shmall-pox  was  Hamilton's  wife.  I  mean, 
Hamilton's  wife  was  shmall-pox.  Calf  bellowed 
with  fright — ran  home- — came  back — 'tamme,'  I 
say,  'there  he  come  again'  '  shmall-pox  in  that 
grave,'  say  I.  Joke — ain't  it  ?  "  and  he  stopped  to 
drain  off  another  pint  of  rum. 

"Biggest  joke  out  of  jail,"  said  the  Xor'-Wester 
dryly,  with  meaning  which  Louis  did  not  grasp. 

"  Ask  him  where  she  is,"  I  whispered,  "  quick  ! 
He's  going  to  sleep."  For  Louis  wiped  his  beard 
on  his  sleeve  and  lay  back  hopelessly  drunk. 

"  Here  you,  waken  up,"  commanded  the  Nor'- 
Wester,  kicking  him  and  shaking  him  roughly. 
"  Where's  the  gal?  " 

"  Shioux — Pays  cT En  Hauf,^'  drawled  the  youth. 
"  Take  off  your  boots  I  Don't  wear  boots.  Pays 
d'En  Haut — moccasins — softer,"  and  he  rolled 
over  in  a  sodden  sleep,  which  defied  all  our  efforts 
to  shake  him  into  consciousness. 

"  Is  that  true?"  asked  the  Nor'-Wester,  stand- 
ing above  the  drunk  man  and  speaking  across  to 
me.  "  Is  that  true  about  the  Indian  kidnapping 
a  woman  ?  " 

"  True — too  terribly  true,"  I  whispered  back. 

"  I'd  like  to  boot  him  into  the  next  world, "said 
the  trader,  looking  down  at  Louis  in  a  manner 
that  might  have  alarmed  that  youth  for  his  safety. 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        87 

*'  I've  bagged  H.  B.  dispatches  anyway,"  he  added 
with  satisfaction. 

"  What'U  we  do  with  him  ?  "  I  asked  aimlessly. 
'*  If  he  had  anything  to  do  with  the  stealing  oi 
Hamilton's  wife " 

''  He  hadn't,"  interrupted  the  trader.  ''  'Twas 
Diable  did  that,  so  Laplante  says." 

"  Then  what  shall  we  do  with  him  ?  " 

"Do — with — him,"  slowly  repeated  the  Nor'- 
Wester  in  a  low,  vibrating  voice.  "  Do — with — 
him?"  and  again  I  felt  a  vague  shudder  of  appre- 
hension at  this  silent,  uncompromising  man's 
purpose. 

The  camp  fires  were  dead.  Not  a  sound  came 
from  the  men  in  the  v.-oods  and  there  was  a  gray 
light  on  the  water  with  a  vague  stirring  of  birds 
through  the  foliage  overhead.  Now  I  would  not 
have  any  man  judge  us  by  the  canons  of  civiliza- 
tion. Under  the  ancient  rule  of  the  fur  compa- 
nies over  the  wilds  of  the  north,  'twas  bullets  and 
blades  put  the  fear  of  the  Lord  in  evil  hearts.  As 
we  stooped  to  gather  up  the  tell-tale  flasks,  the 
drunken  knave,  who  had  lightly  allowed  an  inno- 
cent white  woman  to  go  into  Indian  captivity,  lay 
with  bared  chest  not  a  hand's  length  from  a  knife 
he  had  thrown  down.  Did  the  Nor'-Wester  and 
I  hesitate,  and  look  from  the  man  to  the  dagger, 
and  from  the  dagger  to  the  man  ;  or  is  this  an 
evil  dream  from  a  black  past  ?  ^liriam,  the 
guiltless,  was  suffering  at  his  hands  ;  should  not 
he,  the  guilty,  suffer  at  ours?  Surely  Sisera  was 
not  more  unmistakably  delivered  into  the  power 


88  Lords  of  the  North 

of  his  enemies  by  the  Lord  than  this  man  ;  and 
Sisera  was  discomfited  by  Barak  and  Jael. 
Heber's  wife — says  the  Book — drove  a  tent  nail 
— through  the  temples — of  the  sleeping  man — and 
slew  him  !  Day  was  when  I  thought  the  Old 
Volume  recorded  too  many  deeds  of  bloodshed  in 
the  wilderness  for  the  instruction  of  our  refined 
generation  ;  but  I,  too,  have  since  lived  in  the 
wilderness  and  learned  that  soft  speech  is  not  the 
weapon  of  strong  men  overmastering  savagery. 

I  know  the  trader  and  I  were  thinking  the  same 
thoughts  and  reading  each  other's  thoughts  ;  for 
we  stood  silent  above  the  drunk  man,  neither 
moving,  neither  uttering  a  word. 

"  Well  ?"  I  finally  questioned  in  a  whisper. 

"Well,"  said  he,  and  he  knelt  down  and  picked 
up  the  knife.  "  'Twould  serve  him  right."  He 
was  speaking  in  the  low,  gentle,  purring  voice  he 
had  used  in  the  tent.  " 'Twould  serve  him  jolly 
right,"  and  he  knelt  over  Louis  hesitating. 

My  eyes  followed  his  slow,  deliberate  motions 
with  horror.  Terror  seemed  to  rob  me  of  the 
power  of  speech.  I  felt  my  blood  freeze  with  the 
fear  of  some  impending  crime.  There  w^as  the 
faintest  perceptible  fluttering  of  leaves  ;  and  we 
both  started  up  as  if  we  had  been  assassins,  glanc- 
ing fearfully  into  the  gloom  of  the  forest.  All 
the  woods  seemed  alive  with  horrified  eyes  and 
whisperings. 

"  Stop  !  "  I  gasped,  '*  This  is  madness,  the  mad- 
ness of  the  murderer.  What  would  you  do?" 
And  I  was  trying  to  knock  the  knife  out  of  his 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off        89 

hand,  when  among  the  shadowy  green  of  the 
foliage,  an  open  space  suddenly  resolved  itself 
into  a  human  face  and  there  looked  out  upon  us 
gleaming  eyes  like  those  of  a  crouching   panther. 

**  Squeamish  fool !  "  muttered  the  Nor'-Wester, 
raising  his  arm. 

*'  Stop  !  "  I  implored.  "  We  are  watched. 
See  !  "  and  I  pointed  to  the  face,  that  as  suddenly 
vanished  into  blackness. 

We  both  leaped  into  the  thicket,  pistol  in  hand, 
to  wreak  punishment  on  the  interloper.  There 
v/as  only  an  indistinct  sound  as  of  something 
receding  into  the  darkness. 

"  Don't  fire,"  said  I,  ''  'twill  alarm  the  camp." 

At  imminent  risk  to  our  own  lives,  we  poked 
sticks  through  the  thicket  and  felt  for  our  un- 
seen enemy,  but  found  nothing. 

''  Let's  go  back  and  peg  him  out  on  the  sand, 
where  the  Hudson's  Bay  will  see  him  when  they 
come  this  way,"  suggested  the  Nor'-Wester,  re- 
ferring to  Laplante. 

''  Yes,  or  hand-cuff  him  and  take  him  along 
prisoner,"  I  added,  thinking  Louis  might  have 
more  information. 

But  when  we  stepped  back  to  the  beach,  there 
was  no  Louis  Laplante. 

*'  He  w^as  too  drunk  to  go  himself,"  said  I, 
aghast  at  the  certainty,  which  now  came  home  to 
me,  that  we  had  been  watched. 

"  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  affair,"  de- 
clared the  trader,  in  a  state  of  high  indignation, 
and  he  strode  off  to  his  tent,  I,  following,  with 


90  Lords  of  the  North 

uncomfortable  reflections  trooping  into  my  mind. 
Compunctions  rankled  in  self-respect.  How  near 
we  had  been  to  a  brutal  murder,  to  crime  which 
makes  men  shun  the  perpetrators.  Civilization's 
veneer  was  rubbing  off  at  an  alarming  rate.  This 
thought  stuck,  but  for  obvious  reasons  was  not 
pursued.  Also  I  had  learned  that  the  worst  and 
best  of  outlaws  easily  justify  their  acts  at  the 
time  they  commit  them  ;  but  afterwards — after- 
wards is  a  different  matter,  for  the  thing  is  past 
undoing. 

I  heard  the  trader  snorting  out  inarticulate 
disgust  as  he  tumbled  into  his  tent ;  but  I  stood 
above  the  embers  of  the  camp  fire  thinking. 
Again  I  felt  with  a  creepiness,  that  set  all  my 
flesh  quaking,  felt,  rather  than  saw,  those  mad- 
dening, tiger  eyes  of  the  dark  foliage  watching 
me.  Looking  up,  I  found  my  morose  canoeman 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  leaning  so  close  to  a 
tree,  he  was  barely  visible  in  the  shadows.  Think- 
ing himself  unseen  by  me,  he  wore  such  an  inso- 
lent, amused,  malicious  expression,  I  knew  in  an 
instant,  who  the  interloper  had  been,  and  who 
had  carried  Louis  off.  Before  I  realized  that  such 
an  act  entails  life-long  enmity  with  an  Indian,  I 
had  bounded  over  the  fire  and  struck  him  with 
all  my  strength  full  in  the  face.  At  that,  instead 
of  knifing  me  as  an  Indian  ordinarily  would,  he 
broke  into  hyena  shrieks  of  laughter.  He,  who 
has  heard  that  sound,  need  hear  it  only  once  to 
have  the  echo  ring  forever  in  his  ears ;  and  I 
have  heard  it  oft  and  know  it  well. 


Civilization's  Veneer  Rubs  Off       91 

"  Spy  !  Sneak  !  "  I  muttered,  rushing  upon 
him.  But  he  sprang  back  into  the  forest  and 
vanished.  In  dodging  me,  he  let  fall  his  fowling- 
piece,  which  went  off  with  a  bang  into  the  fire. 

"  Hulloo  !  What's  wrong  out  there  ?  "  bawled 
the  trader's  voice  from  the  tent. 

"  Nothing — false  alarm  !  "  I  called  reassuringly. 
Then  there  caught  my  eyes  what  startled  me 
out  of  all  presence  of  mind.  There,  reflecting 
the  glare  of  the  fire-light  was  the  Indian's  fowl- 
ing-piece, richly  mounted  in  burnished  silver  and 
chased  in  the  rare  design  of  Eric  Hamilton's  family 
crest.  The  morose  canoeman  was  Le  Grand 
Diable. 


A  few  hours  later,  I  was  in  the  thick  of  a  con- 
fused re-embarking.  Le  Grand  Diable  took  a 
place  in  another  boat  ;  and  a  fresh  hand  was  as- 
signed to  my  canoe.  Of  that  I  was  glad  ;  I 
could  sleep  sounder  and  he,  safer.  The  Bourgeois 
complained  that  too  much  rum  had  been  given 
out. 

'*  Keep  a  stiffer  hand  on  your  men,  boy,  or 
they'll  ride  over  your  head,"  one  of  the  chief 
traders  rem.arked  to  me. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  GIRDLE  OF  AGATES  RECALLED 

To  unravel  a  ball  of  yarn,  with  which  kittens 
have  been  making  cobwebs,  has  always  seemed  to 
me  a  much  easier  task  than  to  unknot  the  taneled 
skein  of  confused  influences,  that  trip  up  our  feet 
at  every  step  in  life's  path.  Here  was  I,  who  but 
a  month  ago  had  a  supreme  contempt  for  guile 
and  a  lofty  confidence  in  uprightness  and  down- 
rightness,  transformed  into  a  crafty  trader  with 
all  the  villainous  tricks  of  the  bargain-maker  at 
my  finger-tips.  We  had  befooled  Louis  into  a 
betrayal  of  his  associates  ;  but  how  much  reliance 
could  be  placed  on  that  betrayal?  Had  he  in- 
criminated Diable  to  save  himself  ?  Then,  why 
had  Diable  rescued  his  betrayer  ?  Where  was 
Louis  in  hiding  ?  Was  the  Sioux  wife  with  her 
white  slave  really  in  the  north  country,  orv/asshe 
near,  and  did  that  explain  my  morose  Iroquois* 
all-night  vigils  ?  We  had  cheated  Laplante  ;  but 
had  he  in  turn  cheated  us?  Would  I  be  justified 
in  taking  Diable  prisoner,  and  would  my  company 
consent  to  the  demoralization  of  their  crews  by 
such  a  step  ?  Ah,  if  life  were  only  made  up  of 
simple  right  and  simple  wrong,  instead   of  half 

rights  and  half  wrongs  indistinguishably  mingled, 
92 


A  Girdle  of  Agates  Recalled         93 

we  could  all  be  righteous !  If  the  path  to  the 
goal  of  our  chosen  desire  were  only  as  straight  as 
it  is  narrow,  instead  of  being  dark,  mysterious 
and  tortuous,  how  easily  could  we  attain  high 
ends  !  I  was  launched  on  the  life  for  which  I  had 
longed,  but  strange,  shadowy  forms  like  the  storm- 
fiends  of  sailors'  lore,  drunkenness,  deceit  and 
crime — on  whose  presence  I  had  not  counted — 
flitted  about  my  ship's  masthead.  And  there  was 
not  one  guiding  star,  not  one  redeeming  influence, 
except  the  utter  freedom  to  be  a  man.  I  was 
learning,  what  I  suppose  everyone  learns,  that 
there  are  things  which  sap  success  of  its  sweets. 

Such  were  my  thoughts,  as  our  canoes  sped 
across  the  northern  end  of  Lake  Huron,  heading 
for  the  Sault.  The  Nor'-Westers  had  a  wonder- 
ful way  of  arousing  enthusiastic  loyalty  among 
their  men.  Danger  fanned  this  fealty  to  white- 
heat.  In  the  face  of  powerful  opposition,  the 
great  company  frequently  accomplished  the  im- 
possible. With  half  as  large  a  staff  in  the  service 
as  its  rivals  boasted,  it  invaded  the  hunting-ground 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  outrunning 
all  competition,  extended  fur  posts  from  the  heart 
of  the  continent  to  the  foot-hills  of  the  Rockies, 
and  from  the  internationalboundary  to  the  Arctic 
Circle.  I  had  thought  no  crews  could  make 
quicker  progress  than  ours  from  Lachine  to  Point 
a  la  Croix ;  but  the  short  delay  during  the  storm 
occasioned  faster  work.  More  voyageiirs  were 
engaged  from  the  Nipissangue  tribes.  As  soon 
as  one  lot  fagged  fresh  shifts  came  to  the  relief. 


94  Lords  of  the  North 

Paddles  shot  out  at  the  rate  of  modern  piston 
rods,  and  the  waters  whirled  back  like  wave-wash 
in  the  wake  of  a  clipper.  Except  for  briefest 
stoppages,  speed  was  not  relaxed  across  the  whole 
northern  end  of  those  inland  seas  called  the  Great 
Lakes.  With  ample  space  on  the  lakes,  the 
brigades  could  spread  out  and  the  canoes  sepa- 
rated, not  halting  long  enough  to  come  together 
again  till  we  reached  the  Sault.  Here,  orders 
were  issued  for  the  maintenance  of  rigid  discipline. 
We  camped  at  a  distance  from  the  lodges  of  local 
tribes.  No  grog  was  given  out.  Camp-fire  con- 
viviality was  forbidden,  and  each  man  kept  with 
his  own  crew.  We  remained  in  camp  but  one 
night ;  and  though  I  searched  every  tent,  I  could 
not  find  Le  Grand  Diable.  This  worried  and 
puzzled  me.  All  night,  I  lay  awake,  stretching 
conscience  with  doubtful  plans  to  entrap  the 
knave. 

Rising  with  first  dawn-streak,  I  was  surprised 
to  find  Little  Fellow  and  La  Robe  Noire,  two  of 
my  canoemcn,  setting  off  for  the  woods.  They 
had  laid  a  snare — so  they  explained — and  were 
going  to  examine  it.  Of  late  I  had  grown  dis- 
trustful of  all  natives.  I  suspected  these  two 
might  be  planning  desertion  ;  so  I  went  with 
them.  The  way  led  through  a  dense  thicket  of 
ferns  half  the  height  of  a  man.  Only  dim  light 
penetrated  the  maze  of  foliage  ;  and  I  might 
easily  have  lost  myself,  or  been  decoyed — though 
these  possibilities  did  not  occur  to  me  till  we  were 
at  least  a  mile  from  the  beach.     Little  Fellow  was 


A  Girdle  of  Agates  Recalled         95 

trotting  ahead,  La  Robe  Noire  jogging  behind, 
and  both  glided  through  the  brake  without  dis- 
turbing a  fern  branch,  while  I — after  the  manner 
of  my  race — crunched  flags  underfoot  and  stamped 
down  stalks  enough  to  be  tracked  by  keen-eyed 
Indians  for  a  week  afterwards.  Twice  I  saw 
Little  Fellow  pull  up  abruptly  and  look  warily 
through  the  cedars  on  one  side.  Once  he  stooped 
down  and  peered  among  the  fern  stems.  Then  he 
silently  signaled  back  to  La  Robe  Noire,  pointed 
through  the  undergrowth  and  ran  ahead  again 
without  explanation.  At  first  I  could  see  noth- 
ing, and  regretted  being  led  so  far  into  the  woods. 
I  was  about  to  order  both  Indians  back  to  the 
tent,  when  Little  Fellow,  with  face  pricked  for- 
ward and  foot  raised,  as  if  he  feared  to  set  it 
down — for  the  fourth  time  came  to  a  dead  stand. 
Now,  I,  too,  heard  a  rustle,  and  saw  a  vague  sin- 
uous movement  distinctly  running  abreast  of  us 
among  the  ferns.  For  a  moment,  when  we 
stopped,  it  ceased,  then  wiggled  forward  like 
beast,  or  serpent  in  the  underbrush.  Little  Fellow 
placed  his  forefinger  on  his  lips,  and  we  stood 
noiseless  till  by  the  ripple  of  the  green  it  seemed 
to  scurry  away. 

''What  is  it.  Little  Fellow,  a  cat?"  I  asked; 
but  the  Indian  shook  his  head  dubiously  and 
turned  to  the  open  where  the  trap  had  been   set. 

Bending  over  the  snare  he  uttered  an  Indian 
word,  that  I  did  not  understand,  but  have  since 
heard  traders  use,  so  conclude  it  was  one  of  those 
exclamations,  alien  races  learn  quickest  from  one 


96  Lords  of  the  North 

another,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are  not  found  in 
dictionaries.  The  trap  had  been  rifled  of  game 
and  completely  smashed. 

"  Wolverine  !  "  muttered  the  Indian,  making  a 
sweep  of  his  dagger  blade  at  an  imaginary  foe. 
'*  No  wolverine  !     Bad  Indians  !  " 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  La  Robe  Noire 
leaped  into  the  air  like  a  wounded  rabbit.  An 
arrow  whizzed  past  my  face  and  glanced  within 
a  hair's-breadth  of  the  Indian's  head.  Both  men 
were  dumb  with  amazement.  Such  treachery 
would  have  been  surprising  among  the  barbarous 
tribes  of  the  Athabasca.  The  Sault  was  the 
dividing  line  between  Canada  and  the  Wilderness, 
between  the  east  and  the  west,  and  there  were 
no  hostiles  within  a  thousand  miles  of  us.  Little 
Fellow  would  have  dragged  me  pell-mell  back  to 
the  beach,  but  I  needed  no  persuasion.  La  Robe 
Noire  tore  ahead  with  the  springs  of  a  hunted 
lynx.  Little  Fellow  loyally  kept  between  me 
and  a  possible  pursuer,  and  we  set  off  at  a  hard 
run.  That  creature,  I  fancied,  was  again  coursing 
along  beneath  the  undergrowth  ;  for  the  foliage 
bent  and  rose  as  we  ran.  Whether  it  were  man 
or  beast,  we  were  three  against  one,  and  could 
drive  it  out  of  hiding. 

"  See  here.  Little  Fellow  !  "  I  cried,  "  Let's  hunt 
that  thing  out  !  "  and  I  wheeled  about  so  sharply 
the  chunky  little  man  crashed  forward,  knocking 
me  off  my  feet  and  sending  me  a  man's  length 
farther  on. 

That  fall  saved  my  life.     A   flat    spear  point 


A  Girdle  of  Agates  Recalled         97 

hissed  through  the  air  above  my  head  and  stuck 
fast  in  the  bark  of  an  elm  tree.  Scrambling  up, 
I  promptly  let  go  two  or  three  shots  into  the  fern 
brake.  We  scrutinized  the  underbrush,  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  hum^an  being,  except  the  fern 
stems  broken  by  my  shots.  I  wrenched  the  stone 
spear-head  from  the  tree.  It  was  curiously  or- 
namented with  such  a  multitude  of  intricate 
carvings  I  could  not  decipher  any  design.  Then  I 
discovered  that  the  medley  of  colors  was  produced 
by  inlaying  the  flint  with  small  bits  of  a  bright 
stone;  and  the  bright  stones  had  been  carved  into 
a  rude  likeness  of  some  birds. 

'^What  are  these  birds,  Little  Fellow?"  I 
asked. 

He  fingered  them  closely,  and  with  bulging 
eyes  muttered   back,''  L'Aigle  !     L'Aigle  !  " 

"  Eagles,  are  they  ?  "  I  returned,  stupidly  miss- 
ing the  possible  meaning  of  his  suppressed  excite- 
ment.    "And  the  stone  .^" 

"  Agate,  MoJisieiiry 

Agate !  Agate  !  What  picture  did  agate  call 
back  to  my  mind  ?  A  big  squaw,  with  malicious 
eyes  and  gaping  upper  lip  and  girdle  of  agates, 
watching  Louis  Laplante  and  myself  at  the 
encampment  in  the  gorge. 

*'  Little  Fellow  !  "  I  shouted,  not  suppressing  my 
excitement.     ''  Who  is  Le  Grand  Diable's  wife.?  " 

And  the  Indian  answered  in  a  low  voice,  with  a 
face  that  showed  me  he  had  already  penetrated 
my  discovery,  "  The  daughter  of  L'Aigle,  chief  of 
the  Sioux." 
7 


98  Lords  of  the  North 

Then  I  knew  for  whom  those  missiles  had  been 
intended  and  from  whom  they  had  come.  It  was 
a  clever  piece  of  rascality.  Had  the  assassin 
succeeded,  punishment  would  have  fallen  on  my 
Indians. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  LORDS  OF  THE  NORTH  IN  COUNCIL 

Beyond  the  Sault,  the  fascinations  of  the 
west  beckoned  like  a  siren.  Vast  waterways, 
where  a  dozen  European  kingdoms  could  be 
dropped  into  one  lake  without  raising  a  sand-bar, 
seemed  to  sweep  on  forever  and  call  with  the 
voice  of  enchantress  to  the  very  ends  of  the 
earth.  With  the  purple  recesses  of  the  shore  on 
one  side  and  the  ocean-expanse  of  Lake  Superior 
on  the  other,  all  the  charms  of  clean,  fresh  freedom 
were  unveiling  themselves  to  me  and  my  blood 
began  to  quicken  with  that  fevered  delight,  which 
old  lands  are  pleased  to  call  western  enthusiasm. 
Lake  Huron,  with  its  greenish-blue,  shallow, 
placid  waters  and  calm,  sloping  shores,  seemed 
typical  of  the  even,  easy  life  I  had  left  in  the 
east.  How  those  choppy,  blustering,  little  waves 
resembled  the  jealousies  and  bickerings  and  bar- 
gainings of  the  east ;  but  when  one  came  to  Lake 
Superior,  with  its  great  ocean  billows  and  slum- 
bering, giant  rocks  and  cold,  dark,  fathomless 
depths,  there  was  a  new  life  in  a  hard,  rugged, 
roomy,  new  world.  We  hugged  close  to  the 
north  coast;  and  the  numerous  rocky  islands  to 
our  left  stood  guard  like  a  wall  of  adamant  be- 

99 


100  Lords  of  the  North 

tween  us  and  the  heavy  surf  that  flung  against 
the  barrier.  We  were  rapidly  approaching  the 
headquarters  of  our  company.  When  south- 
bound brigades,  with  prisoners  in  hand-cuffs, 
began  to  meet  us,  I  judged  we  were  near  the  habi- 
tation of  man. 

"  Bad  men  ?"  I  asked  Little  Fellow,  pointing 
to  the  prisoners,  as  our  crews  exchanged  rousing 
cheers  with  the  Nor'-Westers  now  bound"  for 
Montreal. 

''  Non,  Monsieur  !  Not  all  bad  men,"  and  the 
Indian  gave  his  shoulders  an  expressive  shrug, 
*'  Les  traitres  anglaisT 

To  the  French  voyageur,  English  meant  the 
Hudson's  Bay  people.  The  answer  set  me  won- 
dering to  what  pass  things  had  come  between  the 
two  great  companies  that  they  were  shipping  each 
other's  traders  gratuitously  out  of  the  country. 
I  recalled  the  talk  at  the  Quebec  Club  about 
Governor  McDonell  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  trying 
to  expel  Nor'-Westers  and  concluded  our  people 
could  play  their  own  game  against  the  com- 
mander of  Red  River. 

We  arrived  in  Fort  William  at  sundown,  and  a 
flag  was  flying  above  the  courtyard. 

"Is  that  in  our  honor?"  I  asked  a  clerk  of 
the  party. 

"Not  much  it  is,"  he  laughed.  "We  under- 
strappers aren't  oppressed  with  honors !  It 
warns  the  Indians  there's  no  trade  one  day  out  of 
seven." 

"Is  this  Sunday?" 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  CgunciJ    -loi 

I  suddenly  recollected  as  far  as  we  were  con- 
cerned the  past  month  had  been  entirely  com- 
posed of  week-days. 

"Out  of  your  reckoning  already?"  asked  the 
clerk  with  surprise.  "  Wonder  how  you'll  feel 
when  you've  had  ten  years  of  it." 

Situated  on  the  river  bank,  near  the  site  of  an 
old  French  post,  Fort  William  was  a  typical  traders' 
stronghold.  Wooden  palisades  twenty  feet  high 
ran  round  the  whole  fort  and  the  inner  court  en- 
closed at  least  two  hundred  square  yards.  Heavily 
built  block-houses  with  guns  poking  through  win- 
dow slits  gave  a  military  air  to  the  trading  post. 
The  block-houses  were  apparently  to  repel  attack 
from  the  rear  and  the  face  of  the  fort  commanded 
the  river.  Stores,  halls,  warehouses  and  living 
apartments  for  an  army  of  clerks,  were  banked 
against  the  walls,  and  the  main  building  with  its 
spacious  assembly-room  stood  conspicuous  in  the 
centre  of  the  enclosure.  As  we  entered  the  court- 
yard, one  of  the  chief  traders  was  perched  on  a 
mortar  in  the  gate.  The  little  magnate  conde- 
scended never  a  smile  of  welcome  till  the  Bourgeois 
came  up.  Then  he  fawned  loudly  over  the  chiefs 
and  conducted  them  with  noisy  ostentation  to  the 
main  hall.  Indians  and  half-breed  voyageicrs 
quickly  dispersed  among  the  wigwams  outside 
the  pickets,  while  clerks  and  traders  hurried  to 
the  broad-raftered  dining-hall.  Fatigued  from 
the  trip,  I  took  little  notice  of  the  vociferous  im 
terchange  of  news  in  passage-way  and  over  door- 
steps.    I  remember,  after  supper  I  was  strolling 


10-2  holds  of  the  North 

about  the  courtyard,  surveying  the  buildings, 
when  at  the  door  of  a  sort  of  barracks  where 
residents  of  the  fort  hved,  I  caught  sight  of  the 
most  grateful  object  my  eye  had  lighted  upon 
since  leaving  Quebec.  It  was  a  tin  basin  with  a 
large  bar  of  soap — actual  soap.  There  must  still 
have  been  some  vestige  of  civilization  in  my 
nature,  for  after  a  delightful  half-hour's  intimate 
acquaintance  with  that  soap,  I  came  round  to  the 
groups  of  men  rehabilitated  in  self-respect. 

"  Athabasca,  Rocky  Mountain  and  Saskat- 
chewan brigades  here  to-morrow,"  remarked  a 
boyish  looking  Nor'-Wester,  with  a  mannish  beard 
on  his  face.  Involuntarily  I  put  my  hand  to  my 
chin  and  found  a  bristling  growth  there.  That 
was  a  land  where  young  men  could  become  sud- 
denly very  old  ;  and  many  a  trader  has  discovered 
other  signs  of  age  than  a  beard  on  his  face  when 
he  first  looked  at  a  mirror  after  life  in  the  Pays 
(T Eji  Haiit. 

"  I  say,"  blurted  out  another  young  clerk. 
''There's  a  man  here  from  Red  River,  one  of  the 
Selkirk  settlers.  He's  come  with  word  if  we'll 
supply  the  boats,  lots  of  the  colonists  are  ready 
to  dig  out.  General  Assembly's  going  to  consider 
that  to-morrow." 

"  Oh  !  Hang  the  old  Assembly  if  it  ships  that 
man  out  !  He's  got  a  pretty  daughter,  perfect 
beauty,  and  she's  here  with  him  !  "  exclaimed  the 
lad  with  the  mannish  beard. 

"  Go  to,  thou  light-head  !  "  declared  the  other 
youth,  with  the  air  of  an   elder  in   Israel,     "  Go 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    103 

to !  You  paraded  beneath  her  window  for  an 
hour  to-day  and  she  never  once  laid  eyes  on  you." 

All  the  men  laughed. 

"  Hang  it  !  "  said  the  first  speaker.  ''  We  don't 
display  our  little  amours " 

'*  No,"  broke  in  the  other,  "we  just  display  our 
little  contours  and  get  snubbed,  eh  ?  " 

The  bearded  youth  flushed  at  the  sally  of 
laughter. 

"  Hang  it !  "  he  answered,  pulling  fiercely  at  his 
moustache.  ''  She  is  a  bit  of  statuary,  so  she  is, 
as  cold  as  marble.  But  there  is  no  law  against 
looking  at  a  pretty  bit  of  statuary,  when  it  frames 
itself  in  a  window  in  this  wilderness." 

To  which,  every  man  of  the  crowd  said  a  hearty 
amen  ;  and  I  walked  off  to  stretch  myself  full 
length  on  a  bench,  resolving  to  have  out  a  mirror 
from  my  packing  case  and  get  rid  of  those  bristles 
that  offended  my  chin.  The  men  began  to  dis- 
perse to  their  quarters.  The  tardy  twilight  of 
the  long  summer  evenings,  peculiar  to  the  far 
north,  was  gathering  in  the  courtyard.  As  the 
night-wind  sighed  past,  I  felt  the  velvet  caress  of 
warm  June  air  on  my  face  and  memory  reverted 
to  the  innocent  boyhood  days  of  Laval.  How  far 
away  those  days  seemed  !  Yet  it  was  not  so  long 
ago.  Surely  it  is  knowledge,  not  time,  that  ages 
one,  knowledge,  that  takes  away  the  trusting  in- 
nocence resulting  from  ignorance  and  gives  in  its 
place  the  distrustful  innocence  resulting  from  wis- 
dom. I  thought  of  the  temptations  that  had 
come  to  me  in  the  few  short  weeks   I  had  been 


Vj 


104  Lords  of  the  North 

adrift,  and  how  feebly  I  had  resisted  them.  I 
asked  myself  if  there  were  not  in  the  moral  com- 
pass of  men,  who  wander  by  land,  some  guiding 
star,  as  there  is  for  those  who  wander  over  sea. 
I  gazed  high  above  the  sloping  roofs  for  some 
sign  of  moon,  or  star.  The  sky  was  darkling  and 
overcast ;  but  in  lowering  my  eyes  from  heaven 
to  earth,  I  saw  what  I  had  missed  before — a 
fair,  white  face  framed  in  a  window  above  the 
stoop  directly  opposite  my  bench.  The  face 
seemed  to  have  a  background  of  gold  ;  for  a  won- 
derful mass  of  wavy  hair  clustered  down  from  the 
blue-veined  brow  to  the  bit  of  white  throat  visible, 
where  a  gauzy  piece  of  neckwear  had  been  loos- 
ened. Evidently,  this  was  the  statuary  described 
by  the  whiskered  youth.  But  the  statuary 
breathed.  A  bloom  of  living  apple-blossoms  was 
on  the  cheeks.  The  brows  were  black  and  arched. 
The  very  pose  of  the  head  was  arch,  and  in  the 
lips  was  a  suggestion  of  archery,  too, — Cupid's 
archery,  though  the  upper  lip  was  drawn  almost 
too  tight  for  the  bow  beneath  to  discharge  the 
little  god's  shaft.  Why  did  I  do  it  ?  I  do  not 
know.  Ask  the  young  Nor'-Wester,  who  had 
worn  a  path  beneath  the  selfsame  window  that 
very  day,  or  the  hosts  of  young  men,  who  are  still 
wearing  paths  beneath  windows  to  this  very  day. 
I  coughed  and  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  bench  with 
unnecessarily  loud  intimations  of  my  presence. 
The  fringe  of  black  lashes  did  not  even  lift.  I 
rose  and  with  great  show  of  indifference  paraded 
solemnly  five   times   past  that   window ;  but,  in 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    105 

spite  of  my  pompous  indifference,  by  a  sort  of 
side-signalling,  I  learned  that  the  owner  of  the 
heavy  lashes  was  unaware  of  my  existence. 
Thereupon,  I  sat  down  again.  It  zvas  a  bit  of 
statuary  and  a  very  pretty  bit  of  statuary*.  As 
the  youth  said,  there  was  no  law  against  looking 
at  a  bit  of  statuary  in  this  wilderness,  and  as  the 
statuary  did  not  know  I  was  looking  at  it,  I  sat 
back  to  take  my  fill  of  that  vision  framed  in  the 
open  window.  The  statuary,  unknown  to  itself, 
had  full  meed  of  revenge  ;  for  it  presently  brought 
such  a  flood  of  longing  to  my  heart,  longings,  not 
for  this  face,  but  for  what  this  face  represented — 
the  innocence  and  love  and  purity  of  home, 
that  I  bowed  dejectedly  forward  with  moist 
eyes  gazing  at  the  ground. 

"  Hullo  !  "  whispered  a  deep  voice  in  my  ear. 
"Are  you  mooning  after  the  Little  Statue 
already'?  " 

When  I  looked  up,  the  man  had  passed,  but  the 
head  in  the  window  was  leaning  out  and  a  pair  of 
swimming,  lustrous,  gray  eyes  were  gazing  forward 
in  a  way  that  made  me  dizzy.  "  Ah,"  they  said 
in  a  language  that  needed  no  speaking,  "  there 
are  two  of  us,  vQry,  Ytry  homesick." 

"  The  guiding  star  for  my  moral  compass,"  said 
I,  under  my  breath. 

Then  the  statue  in  alive  fashion  suddenly  drew 
back  into  the  dark  room.  The  window-shutter 
flung  to,  with  a  bang,  and  my  vision  was  gone. 
I  left  the  bench,  made  a  shake-down  on  one  of  the 
store  counters,  and  knew  nothing  more  till  the 


io6  Lords  of  the  North 

noise  of  brigades  from  the  far  north  aroused  the 
fort  at  an  early  hour  Monday  morning.  The 
arrival  of  the  Athabasca  traders  was  the  signal  for 
tremendous  activity.  An  army  returning  from 
victory  could  not  have  been  received  with  greater 
acclaim.  Bourgeois  and  clerks  tumbled  promis- 
cuously from  every  nook  in  the  fort  and  rushing 
half-dressed  towards  the  gates  shouted  welcome 
to  the  men,  who  had  come  from  the  outposts  of 
the  known  world.  They  were  a  shaggy,  ragged- 
looking  rabble,  those  traders  from  mountain  fast- 
nesses and  the  Arctic  circle.  With  long  white 
hair,  hatless  some  of  them,  with  beards  like 
oriental  patriarchs,  and  dressed  entirely  in  skins 
of  the  chase,  from  fringed  coats  to  gorgeous  moc- 
casins, the  unkempt  monarchs  of  northern  realms 
had  the  imperious  bearing  of  princes. 

"  Is  it  you,  really  you,  looking  as  old  as  your 
great  grandfather  ?  By  Gad  !  So  it  is,"  came 
from  one  quondam  friend. 

"  Powers  above  !  "  ejaculated  another  onlooker, 
''  See  that  old  Father  Abraham  !  It's  Tait !  As 
you  live,  it's  Tait  1  And  he  only  went  to  the 
Athabasca  ten  years  ago.  He  was  thirty  then, 
and  now  he's  a  hundred  !  " 

*'  That's  Wilson,"  says  another.  ''  Looks  thin, 
doesn't  he  ?  Slim  fare  !  He's  the  only  man  from 
Great  Slave  Lake  that  escaped  being  a  meal  for 
the  Crees, — year  of  the  famine  ;  and  they  hadn't 
time  to  pick  his  bones !  " 

A  running  fire  of  such  comments  went  along  the 
spectators  lining  each  side  of  the  path.     There 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    107 

was  a  sad  side   to  the   clamorous   welcomes  and 
handshakes    and    surprised     recognitions.     Had 
not  these  men  gone  north  young  and  full  of  hope, 
as  I  was  going?     Now,  news  of  the  feud  with  the 
Hudson's  Bay  brought  them  out  old  before  their 
time  and  more  like  the  natives  with  whom  they 
had  traded  than  the    white  race   they  had  left. 
Here  and   there,  strong  men  would  fall  in  each 
other's  arms  and  embrace  like  school-girls,  cover- 
ing  their  emotion  with  rounded  oaths  instead  of 
terms  of  endearment. 

All  day  the  confusion  of  unloading  boats  con- 
tinued.     The  dull  tread  of  moccasined  feet  as  In- 
dians carried  pack  after  pack  from  river  bank  to 
the   fort,  was   ceaseless.     Faster   than  the  clerks 
could  sort  the  furs  great  bundles  were  heaped  on 
the  floor.     By  noon,  warehouses  were   crammed 
from  basement  to  attic.     Ermine  taken  in  mid- 
winter, when  the  fur  was  spotlessly  white,  but  for 
the  jet  tail-tip,  otter  cut  so  deftly  scarcely  a  tuft 
of  fur  had  been  wasted  along   the  opened  seam, 
silver  fox,  which  had  made   the  fortune  of  some 
lucky  hunter— these  and  other  rare  furs,  that  were 
to  minister  to  the  luxury  of  kings,  passed  from 
tawny  carriers  to  sorters.     Elsewhere,  coarse  furs, 
obtained  at  greater  risk,  but  owing  to   the  abun- 
dance of  big  game,  less  valuable  for  the  hunter, 
were  sorted  and  valued.     With  a  reckless  under- 
estimate of  the  beaver-skin,  their  unit  of  currency, 
Indians  hung   over  counters  bartering  away  the 
season's  hunt.     I  frankly  acknowledge  the  Com- 
panv's  clerks  on  such  occasions  could  do  a  rush- 


io8  Lords  of  the  North 

ing   business   selling   tawdry    stuff    at    fabulous 
prices. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  main  hall,  the  Bourgeois,  or 
partners,  of  the  great  North-West  Company  were 
holding  their  annual  General  Assembly  behind 
closed  doors.  Clerks  lowered  their  voices  when 
they  passed  that  room,  and  well  they  might ;  for 
the  rulers  inside  held  despotic  sway  over  a  domain 
as  large  as  Europe.  And  what  were  they  decree- 
ing? Who  can  tell  ?  The  archives  of  the  great 
fur  companies  are  as  jealously  guarded  as  diplo- 
matic documents,  and  more  remarkable  for  what 
they  omit  than  what  they  state.  Was  the  policy, 
that  ended  so  tragically  a  year  afterwards,  adopted 
at  this  meeting?  Great  corporations  have  a 
fashion  of  keeping  their  mouths  and  their  coun- 
cil doors  tight  shut  and  of  leaving  the  public  to 
infer  that  catastrophes  come  causeless.  However 
that  may  be,  I  know  that  Duncan  Cameron,  a 
fiery  Highlander  and  one  of  the  keenest  men  in 
the  North-West  service,  suddenly  flung  out  of  the 
Assembly  room  with  a  pleased,  determined  look 
on  his  ruddy  face. 

''Are  ye  Rufus  Gillespie?"  he  asked. 

''  That's  my  name.  Sir.* 

"  Then  buckle  on  y'r  armor,  lad ;  for  ye'll  see 
the  thick  of  the  fight.  You're  appointed  to 
my  department  at  Red  River."     And  he  left  us. 

"  Lucky  dog  !  I  envy  you  !  There'll  be  rare 
sport  between  Cameron  and  McDonell,  when  the 
two  forts  up  in  Red  River  begin  to  talk  back  to 
each  other,"  exclaimed  a  Fort  William  man  to  me. 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    109 

"  Are  you  Gillespie  ? "  asked  a  low,  mellow, 
musical  voice  by  my  side.  I  turned  to  face  a 
tall,  dark,  wiry  man,  with  the  swarthy  complex- 
ion and  intensely  black  eyes  of  one  having  strains 
of  native  blood.  Among  the  voyageiirs,  I  had 
become  accustomed  to  the  soft-spoken,  melodious 
speech  that  betrays  Indian  parentage ;  and  I  be- 
lieve if  I  were  to  encounter  a  descendant  of  the 
red  race  in  China,  or  among  the  Latin  peoples  of 
Southern  Europe,  I  could  recognize  Indian  blood 
by  that  rhythmic  trick  of  the  native  tongue. 

'*  I'm    Gillespie,"  I    answered    my  keen-eyed 
questioner.     *'  Who  are  you  ?  " 

'•  Cuthbert  Grant,  warden  of  the  plains  and 
leader  oiX.\\Q  Bois-Brules,''  was  his  terse  response. 
"You're  coming  to  our  department  at  Fort  Gib- 
raltar, and  I  want  you  to  give  Father  Holland  a 
place  in  your  canoes  to  come  north  with  us.  He's 
on  his  way  to  the  ^Missouri." 

At  that  instant  Duncan  Cameron  came  up  to 
Grant  and  muttered  something.  Both  men  at 
once  went  back  to  the  council  hall  of  the  General 
Assembly.  I  heard  the  courtyard  gossips  vowing 
that  the  Hudson's  Bay  would  cease  its  aggres- 
sions, now  that  Cameron  and  Cuthbert  Grant  were 
to  lead  the  Xor'-Westers  ;  but  I  made  no  inquiry. 
Next  to  keeping  his  own  counsel  and  giving  cre- 
dence to  no  man,  the  fur  trader  learns  to  gain 
information  only  with  ears  and  eyes,  and  to  ask 
no  questions.  The  scurrying  turmoil  in  the  fort 
lasted  all  day.  At  dusk,  natives  were  expelled 
from  the  stockades  and  work  stopped. 


no  Lords  of  the  North 

Grand  was  the  foregathering  around  the  supper 
table  of  the  great  dining  hall  that  night.     Bour- 
geois, clerks  and  traders  from  afar,  explorers,  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth — assembled  four  hun- 
dred strong,  buoyant  and  unrestrained,  enthusi- 
astically loyal  to  the  company,  and  tingling  with 
hilarious  fellowship  over    this,  the    first   reunion 
for   twenty    years.       Though  their  manner  and 
clothing  be  uncouth,  men  who  have  passed  a  life- 
time exploring  northern  wilds   have  that  to  say, 
which  is  worth   hearing.     So  the  feast   was  pro- 
longed till  candles  sputtered  low  and   pitch-pine 
fagots    flared    out.       Indeed,   before    the   gather- 
ing broke  up,  flagons  as  well  as  candles  had  to  be 
renewed.     Lanterns  swung  from  the  black  rafters 
of  the  ceiling.     Tallow  candles  stood  in  solemn 
rows  down  the  centre  of  each  table,  showing  that 
men,    not    women,    had    prepared  the   banquet. 
Stuck  in  iron  brackets  against  the  walls  were  pine 
torches,  that  had  been  dipped  in  some  resinous 
mixture  and  now  flamed  brightly  with  a  smell  not 
unlike  incense.     Tables  lined  the  four  walls  of  the 
hall  and  ran  in  the  form   of  a  cross  athwart  the 
middle  of  the  room.     Backless  benches  were  on 
both  sides  of  every  table.     At  the  end,  chairs  were 
placed,  the  seats  of  honor  for  famous  Bourgeois, 
British  flags  had  been  draped  across  windows  and 
colored  bunting  hung  from  rafter  to  rafter. 

"Ah,  mon!  Is  no  this  fine?  This  is  worth 
living  for !  This  is  the  company  to  serve  ! " 
Duncan  Cameron  exclaimed  as  he  sank  into  one 
of  the  chairs  at  the  head  of  the  centre  table.     The 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    iii 

Scotchman's  heart  softened  before  those  platters 
of  venison  and  wild  fowl,  and  he  almost  broke 
into  geniality.  ''  Here,  Gillespie,  to  my  right," 
he  called,  motioning  me  to  the  edge  of  the  bench 
at  his  elbow.  ''  Here,  Grant,  opposite  Gillespie  ! 
Aye  !  an'  is  that  you,  Father  Holland  ?  "  he  cried 
to  the  stout,  jovial  priest,  with  shining  brow  and 
cheeks  wrinkling  in  laughter,  v/ho  followed  Grant. 
**  There's  a  place  o'  honor  for  men  like  you,  Sir. 
Here  !  "  and  he  gave  the  priest  a  chair  beside 
himself. 

The  Bourgeois  seated,  there  was  a  scramble  for 
the  benches.  Then  the  whole  company  with  great 
zest  and  much  noisy  talk  fell  upon  the  viands 
with  a  w^ill. 

"  Why,  Cameron,"  began  a  northern  winterer 
a  few  places  below  me,  *'  it's  taken  me  three 
months  fast  travelling  to  come  from  McKenzie 
River  to  Fort  William.  By  Jove  !  Sir,  'tv.-as  cold 
enough  to  freeze  your  words  solid  as  you  spoke 
them,  when  we  left  Great  Slave  Lake.  I'll  bet  if 
you  men  were  up  there  now,  you'd  hear  my  voice 
thawing  out  and  yelling  get-epp  to  my  huskies, 
and  my  huskies  yelping  back  !  Used  a  dog  train, 
whole  of  ]\Iarch.  Tied  myself  up  in  bag  of  buf- 
falo robes  at  night  and  made  the  huskies  lie  across 
it  to  keep  me  from  freezing.  Got  so  hot,  every 
pore  in  my  body  was  a  spouting  fountain,  and  in 
the  morning  that  moisture  would  freeze  my  buck- 
skin stiff.  Couldn't  stand  that  ;  so  I  tried  sleep- 
ing with  my  head  out  of  the  bag  and  froze  my 
nose  six  nights  out  of  seven." 


112  Lords  of  the  North 

The  unfortunate  nose  corroborated  his  evi- 
dence. 

"  Ice  was  sloppy  on  the  Saskatchewan,  and  I 
had  to  use  pack-horses  and  take  the  trail.  I  was 
trusting  to  get  provisions  at  Souris.  You  can 
imagine,  then,  how  we  felt  towards  the  Hudson's 
Bays  when  we  found  they'd  plundered  our  fort. 
We  were  without  a  bite  for  two  days.  Why,  we 
took  half  a  dozen  Hudson's  Bays  in  our  quarters 
up  north  last  winter,  and  saved  them  from  starva- 
tion ;  and  here  we  were,  starving,  that  they  might 
plunder  and  rob.  I'm  with  you.  Sir  !  I'm  with 
you  to  the  hilt  against  the  thieves  !  There's  a 
time  for  peace  and  there's  a  time  for  war,  and  I 
say  this  is  a  very  good  time  for  war !  " 

"  Here's  confusion  to  the  old  H.  B.  C's  !  Con- 
fusion, short  life,  no  prosperity,  and  death  to  the 
Hudson's  Bay !  "  yelled  the  young  whiskered 
Nor'-Wester,  springing  to  his  feet  on  the  bench 
and  waving  a  drinking-cup  round  his  head.  Some 
of  the  youthful  clerks  were  disposed  to  take  their 
cue  from  this  fire-eater  and  began  strumming  the 
table  and  applauding ;  but  the  Bourgeois  frowned 
on  forward  conduct. 

''Check  him,  Grant !  "  growled  Cameron  in  dis- 
approval. 

"  Sit  down,  bumptious  babe  !  "  said  the  priest, 
tugging  the  lad's  coat. 

"  Here,  you  young  show-off,"  whispered  Grant, 
leaning  across  the  priest,  and  he  knocked  the 
boy's  feet  from  under  him  bringing  him  down  to 
the  bench  with  a  thud. 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    113 

"  He  needs  more  outdoor  life,  that  young  one  ! 
It  goes  to  his  head  mighty  fast,"  remarked  Cam- 
eron. *'  What  were  you  saying  about  your  hard 
luck?"  and  he  turned  to  the  northern  winterer 
again. 

''  Call  that  hard  luck  ?  "  broke  in  a  mountaineer, 
laughing  as  if  he  considered  hardships  a  joke. 
"  We  lived  a  month  last  winter  on  two  meals  a 
day ;  soup,  out  of  snow-shoe  thongs,  first  course ; 
fried  skins,  second  go  ;  teaspoonful  shredded  fish, 
by  way  of  an  entree  !  " 

The  man  wore  a  beaded  buckskin  suit,  and  his 
mellow  intonation  of  words  in  the  manner  of  the 
Indian  tongue  showed  that  he  had  almost  lost 
English  speech  along  with  English  customs.  His 
recital  caused  no  surprise. 

"  Been  on  short  rations  myself,"  returned  the 
northerner.  ''  Don't  like  it !  Isn't  safe !  Rips 
a  man's  nerves  to  the  raw  when  Indians  glare  at 
him  with  hungry  eyes  eighteen  hours  out  of  the 
twenty-four." 

"What  was  the  matter?"  drawled  the  moun- 
taineer. "  Hudson's  Bay  been  tampering  with 
your  Indians?  Now  if  you  had  a  good  Indian 
wife  as  I  have,  you  could  defy  the  beggars  to  turn 
trade  away " 

"  Aye,  that's  so,"  agreed  the  winterer,  *'  I  heard 
of  a  fellow  on  the  Athabasca  who  had  to  marry 
a  squaw  before  he  could  get  a  pair  of  racquets 
made  ;  but  that  wasn't  my  trouble.  Game  was 
scarce." 

*'  Game  scarce  on  MacKenzie  River  ?  "  A  chorus 
8 


114  Lords  of  the  North 

of  voices  vented  their  surprise.  To  the  outside 
world  game  is  ahvays  scarce,  reported  scarce  on 
MacKenzie  River  and  everywhere  else  by  the 
jealous  fur  traders  ;  but  these  deceptions  are  not 
kept  up  among  hunters  fraternizing  at  the  same 
banquet  board. 

**  Mighty  scarce.  Some  of  the  tribe  died  out 
from  starvation.  The  Hudson's  Bay  in  our  district 
were  in  bad  plight.     We  took   six  of  them  in — 

Hadn't  heard  of  the  Souris  plunder,  you  may  be 

>» 

sure. 

"  More  fools  they  to  go  into  the  Athabasca," 
declared  the  mountaineer. 

*'  Bigger  fools  to  send  another  brigade  there 
this  year  when  they  needn't  expect  help  from  us/' 
interjected  a  third  trader. 

"You  don't  say  they're  sending  another  lot  of 
men  to  the  Athabasca !  "  exclaimed  the  win- 
terer. 

"Yes  I  do — under  Colin  Robertson,"  afifirmed 
the  third  man. 

"Colin  Robertson— the  Nor'-Wester ?  " 

"  Robertson  who  used  to  be  a  Nor'-Wester ! 
It's  Selkirk's  work  since  he  got  control  of  the 
H.  B." 

"  Robertson  should  know  better,"  said  the 
northerner.  "  He  had  experience  with  us  before 
he  resigned.  I'll  wager  he  doesn't  undertake  that 
sort  of  venture  !     Surely  it's  a  yarn  !  " 

"  You  lose  your  bet,"  cried  the  irrepressible 
Fort  William  lad.  "A  runner  came  in  at  six 
o'clock  and    reported    that    the    Hudson's    Bay 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    115 

brigade  from  Lachine  would  pass  here  before 
midnight.  They're  sooners,  they  are,  are  the 
H.  B.  C's.,"  and  the  clerk  enjoyed  the  sensation 
of  rolling  a  big  oath  from  his  boyish  hps. 

''  Eric  Hamilton  passing  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  the  fort!"  In  astonishm.ent  I  leaned  forward 
to  catch  every  word  the  Fort  William  lad  might 

say. 

"  To  Athabasca  by  our  route — past  this  fort !  " 
Such  temerity  amazed  the  winterer  beyond  cohe- 
rent expression. 

"  Good  thing  for  them  they're  passing  in  the 
night,"  continued  the  clerk.  ''The  half-breeds 
are  hot  about  that  Souris  affair.  There'll  be  a 
collision  yet !  "  The  young  fellow's  importance 
increased  in  proportion    to   the    surprise  of  the 

elder  men. 

"  There'll  be  a  collision  anyway  when  Cameron 
and  Grant  reach  Red  River— eh,  Cuthbert?" 
and  the  mountaineer  turned  to  the  dark,  sharp- 
featured  warden  of  the  plains.  Cuthbert  Grant 
laughed  pleasantly. 

''Oh,  I  hope  not — for  their  sakes!"he  said, 
and  went  on  with  the  story  of  a  buffalo  hunt. 

The  story  I  missed,  for  I  was  deep  in  my  own 
thoughts.  I  must  see  Eric  and  let  him  know  what 
I  had  learned  ;  but  how  communicate  with  the 
Hudson's  Bay  brigade  without  bringing  suspicion 
of  double  deahng  on  myself?  I  was  turning 
things  over  in  my  mind  in  a  stupid  sort  of  way 
like  one  new  at  intrigue,  when  I  heard  a  talker, 
vowing  by  all  that  was  holy  that  he  had  seen  the 


ii6  Lords  of  the  North 

rarest  of  hunter's  rarities — a  pure  white  buffalo. 
The  wonder  had  appeared  in  Qu'Appelle 
Valley. 

"  I  can  cap  that  story,  man,"  cried  the  portly 
Irish  priest  who  was  to  go  north  in  my  boat.  *'  I 
saw  a  white  squaw  less  than  two  weeks  ago  !  ** 
He  paused  for  his  words  to  take  effect,  and  I 
started  from  my  chair  as  if  I  had  been  struck. 

"What's  wrong,  young  man?"  asked  the  win- 
terer. *'  We  lonely  fellows  up  north  see  visions. 
We  leap  out  of  our  moccasins  at  the  sound  of 
our  own  voices ;  but  you  young  chaps,  with  all 
the  world  around  you  " —  he  waved  towards  the 
crowded  hall  as  though  it  were  the  metropolis  of 
the  universe — ''shouldn't  see  ghosts  and  go 
jumping  mad." 

I  sat  down  abashed. 

"  Yes,  a  white  squaw,"  repeated  the  jovial 
priest.  ''  Sure  now,  white  ladies  aren't  so  many 
in  these  regions  that  I'd  be  likely  to  make  a 
mistake." 

"  There's  a  difference  between  squaws  and  white 
ladies,"  persisted  the  jolly  father,  all  unconscious 
that  he  was  emphasizing  a  difference  which  many 
of  the  traders  were  spelling  out  in  hard  years  of 
experience. 

''  I've  seen  papooses  that  were  white  for  a  day 
or  two  after  they  were  born " 

"  Effect  of  the  christening,"  interrupted  the 
youth,  whose  head,  between  flattered  vanity  and 
the  emptied  contents  of  his  drinking  cup,  was 
very  light  indeed. 


The  Lords  of  the  North  in  Council    117 

"  Take  that  idiot  out  and  put  him  to  bed,  some- 
body," commanded  Cameron. 

''  For  a  day  or  two  after  they  were  born,"  reit- 
erated the  priest ;  "but  I  never  saw  such  a  white- 
skinned  squaw !  " 

"  Where  did  you  see  her  ?  "  I  inquired  in  a  voice 
which  was  not  my  own. 

"  On  Lake  Winnipeg.  Coming  down  two 
weeks  ago  we  camped  near  a  band  of  Sioux,  and 
I  declare,  as  I  passed  a  tepee,  I  saw  a  woman's 
face  that  looked  as  white  as  snow.  She  was 
sleeping,  and  the  curtain  had  blown  up.  Her 
child  was  in  her  arms,  and  I  tell  you  her  bare 
arms  were  as  white  as  snow." 

''  Must  have  been  the  effect  of  the  moonhght," 
explained  some  one. 

'*  Moonlight  didn't  give  the  other  Indians  that 
complexion,"  insisted  the  priest. 

It  was  my  turn  to  feel  my  head  suddenly  turn 
giddy,  though  liquor  had  not  passed  my  lips. 
This  information  could  have  only  one  meaning. 
I  was  close  on  the  track  of  Miriam,  and  Eric  was 
near;  yet  the  slightest  blunder  on  my  part  might 
ruin  all  chance  of  meeting  him  and  rescuing  her. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LITTLE  STATUE  ANIMATE 

The  men  began  arguing  about  the  degrees  of 
whiteness  in  a  squaw's  skin.  Those,  married  to 
native  women,  averred  that  differences  of  com- 
plexion were  purely  matters  of  temperament  and 
compared  their  dusky  wives  to  Spanish  belles. 
The  priest  was  now  talking  across  the  table  to 
Duncan  Cameron,  advocating  a  renewal  of  North- 
West  trade  with  the  Mandanes  on  the  Missouri, 
whither  he  was  bound  on  his  missionary  tour. 
To  venture  out  of  the  fort  through  the  Indian 
encampments,  where  natives  and  outlaws  were 
holding  high  carnival,  and  my  sleepless  foe  could 
have  a  free  hand,  would  be  to  risk  all  chance  of 
using  the  information  that  had  come  to  me. 

I  did  not  fear  death — fear  of  death  was  left  east 
of  the  Sault  in  those  days.  On  my  preservation 
depended  Miriam's  rescue.  Besides,  if  either  Le 
Grand  Diable  or  myself  had  to  die,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  of  other  men  similarly  situated — that 
my  enemy  was  the  one  who  should  go. 

Violins,  flutes  and  bag-pipes  were  striking  up  in 
different  parts  of  the  hall.  Simple  ballads,  smack- 
ing of  old   delights  In  an  older  land,  songs,  with 

which  home-sick  white  men  comforted  themselves 
ii8 


The  Little  Statue  Animate         119 

in  far-off  lodges — were  roared  out  in  strident 
tones.  Feet  were  beating  time  to  the  rasp  of  the 
fiddles.  Men  rose  and  danced  wild  jigs,  or  deftly 
executed  some  intricate  Indian  step  ;  and  uproar- 
ious applause  greeted  every  performer.  The  hall 
throbbed  with  confused  sounds  and  the  din  dead- 
ened my  thinking  faculties.  Even  now,  Eric 
might  be  slipping  past.  In  that  deafening  tumult 
I  could  decide  nothing,  and  Vv^hen  I  tried  to  leave 
the  table,  all  the  lights  swam  dizzily. 

*'  Excuse  me,  Sir !  "  I  whispered,  clutching  the 
priest's  elbow.  **  YouVe  Father  Holland  and  are 
to  go  north  in  my  boats.  Come  out  with  me  for 
a  moment." 

Thinking  me  tipsy,  he  gave  me  a  droll  glance. 
"'Pon    my    soul!     Strapping    fellows    like    you 

shouldn't  need  last  rites " 

*'  Please  say  nothing  !  Come  quickly  !  "  and  I 
gripped  his  arm. 

"  Bless  us  !  It's  a  touch  of  the  head,  or  the 
heart !  "  and  he  rose  and  followed  me  from  the 
hall. 

In  the  fresh  air,  dizziness  left  me.  Sitting 
down  on  the  bench,  where  I  had  lain  the  night 
before,  I  told  him  my  perplexing  mission.  At 
first,  I  am  sure  he  was  convinced  that  I  was  drunk 
or  raving,  but  my  story  had  the  directness  of 
truth.  He  saw  at  once  how  easily  he  could  leave 
the  fort  at  that  late  hour  without  arousing  sus- 
picion, and  finally  offered  to  come  with  me  to 
the  river  bank,  where  we  might  intercept  Hamil- 
ton. 


120  Lords  of  the  North 

"  But  we  must  have  a  boat,  a  light  cockle-shell 
thing,  so  we  can  dart  out  whenever  the  brigade 
appears,"  declared  the  priest,  casting  about  in  his 
mind  for  means  to  forward  our  object. 

**The  canoes  are  all  locked  up.  Can't  you  bor- 
row one  from  the  Indians  ?  Don't  you  know  any 
of  them  ? "  I  asked  with  a  sudden  sinking  of 
heart. 

"  And  have  the  whole  pack  of  them  sneaking 
after  us  ?  No — no — that  won't  do.  Where  are 
your  wits,  boy  !  Arrah  !  Me  hearty,  but  what 
was  that  ?" 

We  both  heard  the  shutter  above  our  heads 
suddenly  thrown  open,  but  darkness  hid  anyone 
who  might  have  been  listening. 

"  Hm  !  "  said  the  priest.  *'  Overheard  !  Fine 
conspirators  we  are  !     Some  eavesdropper  !  " 

"  Hush!"  and  remembering  whose  window  it 
was,  I  held  him  ;  for  he  would  have  stalked  away. 

"Are  you  there?  "came  a  clear,  gentle  voice, 
that  fell  from  the  window  in  the  breaking  ripples 
of  a  fountain  plash. 

The  bit  of  statuary  had  become  suddenly  ani- 
mate and  was  not  so  marble-cold  to  mankind  as 
it  looked.  Thinking  we  had  been  taken  for  an 
expected  lover,  I,  too,  was  moving  ofT,  when  the 
voice,  that  sounded  like  the  dropping  golden  notes 
of  a  cremona,  called  out  in  tones  of  vibrating 
alarm  : 

''Don't — don't  go!  Priest!  Priest!  Father! 
It's  you  I'm  speaking  to.  I've  heard  every 
word ! " 


The  Little  Statue  Animate         121 

Father  Holland  and  I  were  too  much  amazed 
to  do  aught  but  gape  from  each  otherto  the  dark 
window.  We  could  now  see  the  outlines  of  a 
white  face  there. 

**  If  you'd  please  put  one  bench  on  top  of  an- 
other, and  balance  a  bucket  on  that,  I  think  I 
could  get  down,"  pleaded  the  low,  thrilling 
voice. 

"  An'  in  the  name  of  the  seven  wonders  of  crea- 
tion, what  for  would  you  be  getting  down  ?  "  asked 
the  astonished  priest. 

"  Oh  !  Hurry  !  Are  you  getting  the  bench  ?  " 
coaxed  the  voice. 

"  Faith  an'  we're  not !  And  we  have  no  thought 
of  doing  such  a  thing  !  "  began  the  good  man  with 
severity. 

''Then,  I'll  jump,"  threatened  the  voice. 

"  And  break  your  pretty  neck,"  answered  the 
ungallant  father  with  indignation. 

There  was  a  rustling  of  skirts  being  gathered 
across  the  window  sill  and  outlines  of  a  white  face 
gave  place  to  the  figure  of  a  frail  girl  preparing 
for  a  leap. 

"  Don't ! "  I  cried,  genuinely  alarmed,  with  a 
mental  vision  of  shattered  statuary  on  the  ground. 
"  Don't !  I'm  getting  the  benches,"  and  I  piled 
them  up,  with  a  rickety  bucket  on  top.  "  Wait !  " 
I  implored,  stepping  up  on  the  bottom  bench. 
"  Give  me  your  hand,"  and  as  I  caught  her  hands, 
she  leaped  from  the  window  to  the  bucket,  and 
the  bucket  to  the  ground,  with  a  daintiness,  which 
I  thought  savored  of  experience  in  such  escapades. 


122  Lords  of  the  North 

"What  do  you  mean,  young  woman?"  de- 
manded Father  Holland  in  anger.  ''  I'll  have 
none  of  your  frisky  nonsense  !  Do  you  know,  you 
baggage,  that  you  are  delaying  this  young  man  in 
a  matter  that  is  of  life-and-death  importance? 
Tell  me  this  instant,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

*'  I  want  to  save  that  woman,  Miriam  !  You're 
both  so  slow  and  stupid!  Come,  quick!"  and 
she  caught  us  by  the  arms.  ''  There's  a  skiff 
down  among  the  rushes  in  the  flats.  I  can  guide 
you  to  it.  Cross  the  river  in  it !  Oh  !  Quick  I 
Quick!  Some  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  brigades 
have  already  passed  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know?"  we  both  demanded  as 
in  one  breath. 

"  I'm  Frances  Sutherland.  My  father  is  one  of 
the  Selkirk  settlers  and  he  had  word  that  they 
would  pass  to-night !     Oh  !     Come  !     Come  !  " 

This  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  was  play- 
ing double  to  both  companies  I  And  her  service 
to  me  would  compel  me  to  be  loyal  to  him  ! 
Truly,  I  was  becoming  involved  in  a  way  that 
complicated  simple  duty.  But  the  girl  had  darted 
ahead  of  us,  we  following  by  the  flutter  of 
the  white  gown,  and  she  led  us  out  of  the 
courtyard  by  a  sally-port  to  the  rear  of  a  block- 
house. She  paused  in  the  shadow  of  some 
shrubbery. 

''  Get  fagots  from  the  Indians  to  light  us 
across  the  flats,"  she  whispered  to  Father  Holland. 
"They'll  think  nothing  of  your  coming.  You're 
always  among  them  !  " 


The  Little  Statue  Animate  123 

"  Mistress  Sutherland  !  "  I  began,  as  the  priest 
hurried  forward  to  the  Indian  camp-fires,  "  I  hate 
to  think  of  you  risking  yourself  in  this  way 
for " 

"  Stop  thinking,  then,"  she  interrupted  abruptly 
in  a  voice  that  somehow  reminded  me  of  my  first 
vision  of  statuary. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  blundered  on.  "  Father 
Holland  and  I  have  both  forgotten  to  apol- 
ogize for  our  rudeness  about  helping  you 
down." 

"  Pray  don't  apologize,"  answered  the  marble 
voice.  Then  the  girl  laughed.  *'  Really  you're 
worse  than  I  thought,  when  I  heard  you  bun- 
gling over  a  boat.  I  didn't  mind  your  rudeness. 
It  was  funny." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I,  abashed.  There  are  situations 
in  which  conversation  is  impossible. 

"  I  didn't  mind  your  rudeness,"  she  repeated, 
"  and — and — you  mustn't  mind  mine.  Home- 
sick people  aren't — aren't — responsible,  you  know. 
Ah !  Here  are  the  torches  !  Give  me  one.  I 
thank  you — Father  Holland — is  it  not?  Please 
smother  them  down  till  we  reach  the  river,  or  we'll 
be  followed." 

She  was  off  in  a  flash,  leading  us  through  a  high 
growth  of  rushes  across  the  flats.  So  I  was  both 
recognized  and  remembered  from  the  previous 
night.  The  thought  was  not  displeasing.  The 
wind  moaned  dismally  through  the  reeds.  I  did 
not  know  that  I  had  been  glancing  nervously  be- 
hind  at  every   step,    with    uncomfortable  recol- 


124  Lords  of  the  North 

lections  of  arrows  and  spear-heads,  till  Father 
Holland  exclaimed  : 

'*  Why,  boy !  You're  timid  !  What  are  you 
scared  of?" 

"  The  devil!  "  and  I  spoke  truthfully. 

"  Faith  !  There's  more  than  yourself  runs  from 
His  Majesty  ;  but  resist  the  devil  and  he  will  flee 
from  you." 

"  Not  the  kind  of  devil  that's  my  enemy,"  I  ex- 
plained. I  told  him  of  the  arrow-shot  and  spear- 
head, and  all  mirth  left  his  manner. 

*'  I  know  him,  I  know  him  well.  There's  no 
greater  scoundrel  between  Quebec  and  Atha- 
basca." 

"  My  devil,  or  yours?  " 

"  Yours,  lad.  Let  your  laughter  be  turned  to 
mourning!  Beware  of  him!  I've  known  more 
than  one  murder  of  his  doing.  Eh  !  But  he's 
cunning,  so  cunning!  We  can't  trip  him  up 
with  proofs  ;  and  his  body's  as  slippery  as  an  eel 
or  we  might " 

But  a  loon  flapped  up  from  the  rushes,  brush- 
ing the  priest's  face  with  its  wings. 

''  Holy  Mary  save  us  !  '*  he  ejaculated  panting 
to  keep  up  with  our  guide.  "  Faith  !  I  thought 
'twas  the  devil  himself !  " 

*'  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  Would  it  be  right 
to  get  hold  of  Le  Grand  Diable?  "  I  asked. 
Frances  Sutherland  had  slackened  her  pace  and 
we  were  all  three  walking  abreast.  A  dry  cane 
crushed  noisily  under  foot  and  my  head  ducked 
down  as  if  more  arrows  had  hissed  past. 


The  Little  Statue  Animate         125 

"Mane  it?"  he  cried,  "mane  it?  If  ye  knew 
all  the  evil  he's  done  ye'd  know  whether  I  mane 
it."  It  was  his  custom  when  in  banter  to  drop 
from  English  to  his  native  brogue  like  a  merry- 
andrew. 

•'  But,  Father  Holland,  I  had  him  in  my  power. 
I  struck  him,  but  I  didn't  kill  him,  more's  the 
pity!" 

"  An*  who's  talking  of  klllin*,  ye  young  cut- 
throat ?  I  say  get  howld  of  his  body  and  when 
ye've  got  howld  of  his  body,  I'd  further  advise 
gettin'  howld  of  the  butt  end  of  a  saplin' " 

"  But,  Father,  he  was  my  canoeman.  I  had  him 
in  my  power." 

Instantly  he  squared  round  throwing  the  torch- 
light on  my  face. 

"  Had  him  in  your  power — knew  what  he'd 
done — and — and — didn't  ?  " 

"And  didn't,"  said  I.  "  But  you  almost  make 
me  wish  I  had.     What  do  you  take  traders  for  ?  " 

"  You're  young,"  said  he,  "and  I  take  traders 
for  what  they  are " 

"  But  I'm  a  trader  and  I  didn't "     Though  a 

beginner,  I  wore  the  airs  of  a  veteran. 

"  Benedicite  !  "  he  cried.  "  The  Lord  shall  be 
your  avenger  !  He  shall  deliver  that  evil  one 
into  the  power  of  the  punisher  !  " 

"  Benedicite  !  "  he  repeated.  "  May  ye  keep  as 
clean  a  conscience  in  this  land  as  you've  brought 
to  it." 

"  Amen,  Father!  "  said  I. 

"  Here  we  are,"  exclaimed  Frances  Sutherland 


126  Lords  of  the  North 

as  we  emerged  from  the  reeds  to  the  brink  of  the 
river,  where  a  skiff  was  moored.  **  Go,  be  quick! 
I'll  stay  here  !  'Twill  be  better  without  me. 
The  Hudson's  Bay  are  keeping  close  to  the  far 
shore  !  " 

"  You  can't  stay  alone,"  objected  Father  Hol- 
land. 

*'  I  shall  stay  alone,  and  I've  had  my  way  once 
already  to-night." 

''  But  we  don't  wish  to  lose  one  woman  in  find- 
ing another,"  I  protested. 

"  Go,"  she  commanded  with  a  furious  little 
stamp.  "  You  lose  time  !  Stupids  !  Do  you 
think  I  stay  here  for  nothing  ?  We  may  have 
been  followed  and  I  shall  stay  here  and  watch  ! 
I'll  hide  in  the  rushes  !  Go  !  "  And  there  was  a 
second  stamp. 

That  stamp  of  a  foot  no  larger  than  a  boy*s 
hand  cowed  two  strong  men  and  sent  us  rowing 
meekly  across  the  river. 

"  Did  ye  ever — did  ever  ye  see  such  a  little 
termagant,  such  a  persuasive,  commanding  little 
queen  of  a  termagant  ?"  asked  the  priest  almost 
breathless  with  surprise. 

'*  Queen  of  courage  i  "  I  answered  back. 

"  Queen  of  hearts,  too,  I'm  thinking.  Arrah  f 
Me  hearty,  to  be  young  !  " 

She  must  have  smothered  her  torch,  for  there 
was  no  light  among  the  reeds  when  I  looked 
back.  We  crossed  the  river  slowly,  listening  be- 
tween oar-strokes  for  the  paddle-dips  of  approach- 
ing canoes.     There  was  no  sound  but  the  lashing 


The  Little  Statue  Animate         127 

of  water  against  the  pebbled  shore  and  we  lay  in 
a  little  bay  ready  to  dash  across  the  fleet's  course, 
when  the  boats  should  come  abreast. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  canoe  nose  cau- 
tiously rounded  the  headland  coming  close  to  our 
boat.  Instantly  I  shot  our  skiff  straight  across 
its  path  and  Father  Holland  waved  the  torches 
overhead. 

''Hist!  Hold  back  there — have  a  care  ! "  I 
called. 

"  Clear  the  way !  "  came  an  angry  order  from 
the  dark,     '^  Clear — or  we  fire  !  " 

"  Fire  if  you  dare,  you  fools ! "  I  retorted, 
knowing  well  they  would  not  alarm  the  fort,  and 
we  edged  nearer  the  boat. 

**  Where's  Eric  Hamilton?"  I  demanded. 

"A  curse  on  you!  None  of  your  business! 
Get  out  of  the  way  !  Who  are  you  ?  "  growled 
the  voice. 

"Answer — quick!"  I  urged  Father  Holland, 
thinking  they  would  respect  holy  orders ;  and  I 
succeeded  in  bumping  my  craft  against  their 
canoe. 

"  Strike  him  with  your  paddle,  man  !  "  yelled 
the  steersman,  who  was  beyond  reach. 

"  Give  'im  a  bullet !  "  called  another. 

''  For  shame,  ye  saucy  divils ! "  shouted  the 
priest,  shaking  his  torch  aloft  and  displaying  his 
garb.  "  Shame  to  ye,  threatenin'  to  shoot  a  mis- 
sionary !  Ye'd  be  much  better  showin'  respect 
to  the  Church.  Whur's  Eric  Hamilton?"  he 
demanded   in   a   fine    show    of  indignation,  and 


128  Lords  of  the  North 

he  caught  the  edge  of  their  craft  in  his  right 
hand. 

"  Let  go !  "  and  the  steersman  threateningly 
raised  a  pole  that  shone  steel-shod. 

"  Let  go — is  ut  ye're  orderin*  me  ?"  thundered 
the  holy  man,  now  in  a  towering  rage,  and  he 
flaunted  the  torch  over  the  crew.  **  Howld  y'r 
imp'dent  tongues !  "  he  shouted,  shaking  the 
canoe.  "  Be  civil  this  minute,  or  I'll  spill  ye  to 
the  bottom,  ye  load  of  cursin*  braggarts !  Faith 
an*  ut's  a  durty  meal  ye'd  make  for  the  fush ! 
Foine  answers  ye  give  polite  questions !  How 
d'y*  know  we* re  not  here  to  warn  ye  about  the 
fort  ?  For  shame  to  ye.  Whur's  Eric  Hamilton, 
I  say  ?  " 

Some  of  the  canoemen  recognized  the  priest. 
Conciliatory  whispers  passed  from  man  to  man. 

"  Hamilton's  far  ahead — above  the  falls  now," 
answered  the  steersman. 

"  Then,  as  ye  hope  to  save  your  soul,"  warned 
Father  Holland  not  yet  appeased,  ''deliver  this 
young  man's  message  !  " 

"Tell  Hamilton,"  I  cried,  "that  she  whom  he 
seeks  is  held  captive  by  a  band  of  Sioux  on  Lake 
Winnipeg  and  to  make  haste.  Tell  him  that  and 
he'll  reward  you  well !  " 

*'  Vary  by  one  word  from  the  message,"  added 
the  priest,  "  and  my  curses  *11  track  your  soul  to 
the  furnace." 

Father  Holland  relaxed  his  grasp,  the  paddles 
dipped  down  and  the  canoe  was  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness. 


The  Little  Statue  Animate        129 

More  than  once  I  thought  that  a  shadowy 
thing  like  an  Indian's  boat  had  hung  on  our  rear 
and  the  craft  seemed  to  be  dogging  us  back  to 
the  flats.  Father  Holland  raised  his  torch  and 
could  see  nothing  on  the  water  but  the  glassy- 
reflection  of  our  own  forms.  He  said  it  was  a 
phantom  boat  I  had  seen  ;  and,  truly,  visions  of 
Le  Grande  Diable  had  haunted  me  so  persistently 
of  late,  I  could  scarcely  trust  my  senses.  Frances 
Sutherland's  torch  suddenly  appeared  waving 
above  the  flats.  I  put  muscle  to  the  oar  and 
before  we  had  landed  she  called  out — 

**An  Indian's  canoe  shot  past  a  moment  ago. 
Did  you  see  it?" 

''  No,"  returned  Father  Holland. 

"  I  think  we  did,"  said  I. 

•  ••>•• 

**  How  can  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
done  ?  "  I  was  saying  to  Frances  Sutherland  as 
we  entered  the  fort  by  the  same  sally-port. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know  how  ?  " 

'*  Do  I  ?  "  I  was  prepared  to  offer  dramatic 
sacrifice. 

''Then  never  think  of  it  again,  nor  speak  of  it 
again,  nor  know  me  any  more  than  if  it  hadn't 
happened " 

"  The  conditions  are  hard." 

''  And " 

**  And  what?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

**  And  help   me  back  the  way   I   came  down. 
For  if  my  father — oh  !   if  my  father  knew — he 
would  kill  me  !  " 
9 


130  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Faith  !  So  he  ought !  "  ejaculated  the  priest. 
"  Risking  such  precious  treasure  among  vandals  !  " 

Again  I  piled  up  the  benches.  From  the 
bench,  she  stepped  to  the  bucket,  and  from  the 
bucket  to  my  shoulder,  and  as  the  light  weight 
left  my  shoulder  for  the  window  sill,  unknown  to 
her,  I  caught  the  fluffy  skirt,  now  bedraggled 
with  the  night  dew,  and  kissed  it  gratefully. 

"  Oh — ho —  and  oh-ho  and  oh-ho,"  hummed 
the  priest.     *'  Do  /scent  matrimony?  " 

"  Not  unless  it's  in  your  nose,"  I  returned  huf- 
fily. *'  Show  me  a  man  of  all  the  hundreds  inside, 
Father  Holland,  that  wouldn't  go  on  his  marrow- 
bones to  a  woman  who  risks  life  and  reputation, 
which  is  dearer  than  life,  to  save  another  woman  !  '* 

*'  Bless  you,  me  hearty,  if  he  wouldn't,  he'd  be 
a  villain,"  said  the  priest. 


CHAPTER  IX 

DECORATING  A  BIT  OF  STATUARY 

I  FREQUENTLY  passed  that  window  above  the 
stoop  next  day.  Once  I  saw  a  face  looking  down 
on  me  with  such  withering  scorn,  I  wondered  if 
the  disgraceful  scene  with  Louis  Laplante  had 
become  noised  about,  and  I  hastened  to  take  my 
exercise  in  another  part  of  the  courtyard.  There- 
upon, others  paid  silent  homage  to  the  window, 
but  they  likewise  soon  tired  of  that  parade 
ground. 

Eastern  notions  of  propriety  still  clung  to  me. 
Of  this  I  had  immediate  proof.  When  our  rough 
crews  were  preparing  to  re-embark  for  the  north, 
I  was  shocked  beyond  measure  to  see  this  frail 
girl  come  down  with  her  father  to  travel  in  our 
company.  Not  counting  her  father,  the  priest, 
Duncan  Cameron,  Cuthbert  Grant  and  myself, 
there  were  in  our  party  three-score  reckless,  un- 
curbed adventurers,  who  feared  neither  God  nor 
man.  I  thought  it  strange  of  a  father  to  expose 
his  daughter  to  the  bold  gaze,  coarse  remarks,  and 
perhaps  insults  of  such  men.  Before  the  end  of 
that  trip,  I  was  to  learn  a  lesson  in  western  chiv- 
alry, which  is  not  easily  explained,  or  forgotten. 
As  father  and  daughter  were  waiting  to  take  their 

131 


132  Lords  of  the  North 

places  in  a  boat,  a  shapeless,  flat-footed  woman, 
wearing  moccasins — probably  the  half-breed  wife 
of  some  trader  in  the  fort — ran  to  the  water's 
edge  with  a  parcel  of  dainties,  and  kissing  the 
girl  on  both  cheeks,  wished  her  a  fervent  God- 
speed. 

"  Oh  !  "  growled  the  young  Nor'-Wester,  who 
had  been  carried  from  the  banquet  hall,  and  now 
wore  the  sour  expression  that  is  the  aftermath  of 
banquets.  "  Look  at  that  fat  lump  of  a  bumble- 
bee distilling  honey  from  the  rose  !  There  are 
others  who  would  appreciate  that  sort  of  thing! 
This  is  the  wilderness  of  lost  opportunities  !  " 

The  girl  seated  herself  in  a  canoe,  where  the 
only  men  were  Duncan  Cameron,  her  father  and 
the  native  voyageurs  ;  and  I  dare  vouch  a  score  of 
young  traders  groaned  at  the  sight  of  this  second 
lost  opportunity. 

"■  Look,  Gillespie  !  Look  !  "  muttered  my  com- 
rade of  the  banquet  hall.  "  The  Little  Statue  set 
up  at  the  prow  of  yon  canoe !  I'll  wager  you  do 
reverence  to  graven  images  all  the  way  to  Red 
River !  " 

"  I'll  wager  we  all  do,"  said  I. 

And  we  did.  To  change  the  metaphor — after 
the  style  of  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie's  eloquence — 
I  warrant  there  was  not  a  young  man  of  the  eight 
crews,  who  did  not  regard  that  marble-cold  face 
at  the  prow  of  the  leading  canoe,  as  his  own  par- 
ticular guiding  star.  And  the  white  face  beneath 
the  broad-brimmed  hat,  tied  down  at  each  side  in 
the  fashion  of  those  days,  was  as  serenely  uncon- 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary      133 

scious  of  us  as  any  star  of  the  heavenly  constella- 
tions. If  she  saw  there  were  objects  behind  her 
canoe,  and  that  the  objects  were  living  beings, 
and  the  living  beings  men,  she  gave  no  evidence 
of  it.  Nor  was  the  Little  Statue — as  we  had  got 
in  the  habit  of  calling  her — heartless.  In  spite 
of  the  fears  which  she  entertained  for  her  stern 
father,  her  filial  affection  was  a  thing  to  turn  the 
lads  of  the  crews  quite  mad.  Scarcely  were  we 
ashore  at  the  different  encampments  before  father 
and  daughter  would  stroll  off  arm  in  arm,  leaving 
the  whole  brigade  envious  and  disconsolate.  Was 
it  the  influence  of  this  slip  of  a  girl,  I  wonder, 
that  a  curious  change  came  over  our  crews  ?  The 
men  still  swore  ;  but  they  did  it  under  their  breath. 
Fewer  yarns  of  a  quality,  which  need  not  be  speci- 
fied, were  told  ;  and  certain  kinds  of  jokes  were 
no  longer  greeted  with  a  loud  guffaw.  Still  we 
all  thought  ourselves  mightily  ill-used  by  that 
diminutive  bundle  of  independence,  and  some 
took  to  turning  the  backs  of  their  heads  in  her 
direction  when  she  chanced  to  come  their  way. 
One  young  spark  said  something  about  the  Little 
Statue  being  a  prig,  which  we  all  invited  him  to 
repeat,  but  he  declined.  Had  she  played  the  co- 
quette under  the  innocent  mask  of  sympathy  and 
all  other  guiles  with  which  gentle  slayers  ambush 
strong  hearts,  I  dare  affirm  there  would  have  been 
trouble  enough  and  to  spare.  Suicides,  fights, 
insults  and  worse,  I  have  witnessed  when  some 
fool  woman  with  a  fair  face  came  among  such 
men.    *'  Fool  "  woman,  I  say,  rather  than  *'  false  "  ; 


134  Lords  of  the  North 

for  to  my  mind  falsity  in  a  woman  may  not  be 
compared  to  folly  for  the  utter  be-deviling  of 
men. 

With  our  guiding  star  at  the  prow  of  the  fore 
canoe,  we  continued  to  wind  among  countless 
islands,  through  narrow,  rocky  channels  and  along 
those  endless  water-ways,  that  stretch  like  a 
tangled,  silver  chain  with  emerald  jewels,  all  the 
way  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  plains.  Some- 
where along  Rainy  River,  where  there  is  an  oasis 
of  rolling,  wooded  meadows  in  a  desert  of  iron 
rock,  we  pitched  our  tents  for  the  night.  The 
evening  air  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  sum- 
mer's early  flowers.  I  could  not  but  marvel  at  the 
almost  magical  growth  in  these  far  northern  lati- 
tudes. Barely  a  month  had  passed  since  snow 
enveloped  the  earth  in  a  winding  sheet,  and  I  have 
heard  old  residents  say  that  the  winter's  frost 
penetrated  the  ground  for  a  depth  of  four  feet. 
Yet  here  we  were  in  a  very  tropic  of  growth  run 
riot  and  the  frost,  which  still  lay  beneath  the 
upper  soil,  was  thawing  and  moistening  the  suc- 
culent roots  of  a  wilderness  of  green.  The 
meadow  grass,  swaying  off  to  the  forest  margin 
in  billowy  ripples,  was  already  knee-high.  The 
woods  were  an  impenetrable  mass  of  foliage  from 
the  forest  of  ferns  about  the  broad  trunks  to  the 
high  tree-tops,  nodding  and  fanning  in  the  night 
breeze  like  coquettish  dames  in  an  eastern  ball- 
room. Everywhere — at  the  river  bank,  where  our 
tents  stood,  above  the  long  grass,  and  in  the 
forest — clear,  faint  and  delicate,  like  the  bloom  of 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary      135 

a  fair  woman's  cheek,  or  the  pensive  theme  of 
some  dream  fugue,  or  the  sweet  notes  of  some 
far-off,  floating  harmonies,  was  an  odor  of  hidden 
flowers.  A  trader's  nature  is,  of  necessity,  rough 
in  the  grain,  but  it  is  not  corrupt  with  the  fevered 
joys  of  the  gilded  cities.  Even  we  could  feel  the 
call  of  the  wilds  to  come  and  seek.  It  was  not 
surprising,  therefore,  that  after  supper  father  and 
daughter  should  stroll  away  from  the  encamp- 
ment, arm  in  arm,  as  usual.  As  their  figures 
passed  into  the  woods,  the  girl  broke  away  from 
her  father's  arm  and  stooped  to  the  ground. 

**  Pickin*  flowers,"  was  the  laconic  remark  of 
the  trader,  who  had  helped  me  with  Louis  La- 
plante  on  the  beach  ;  and  the  man  lay  back  full 
length  against  a  rising  knoll  to  drink  in  the  deli- 
cious freshness  of  the  night.  Every  man  of  us 
watched  the  vanishing  forms. 

"Smell  violets?"  asked  a  heterogeneous  com- 
bination of  sun-brown  and  buckskin. 

"  This  ground's  a  perfect  wheat-field  of  violets/* 
exclaimed  the  whiskered  youngster. 

"  Lots  o'  Mayflowers  and  night-shades  in  the 
bush,"  declared  a  ragged  man,  who  was  one  of 
the  worst  gamblers  in  camp,  and  was  now  aim- 
lessly shufifling  a  greasy,  bethumbed  pack  of 
cards. 

"  Oh  !  "  came  simultaneously  from  half  a  dozen. 
Personally,  it  struck  me  one  might  pick  flowers 
for  a  certain  purpose  in  the  bush  without  being 
observed. 

"  Mayflowers  in  June  ! "  scoffed  the  boy. 


136  Lords  of  the  North 

**Aye,  babe!  Mayflowers  in  June!  May  w 
June  in  these  here  regions,"  asserted  the  man. 
'*  Ladies-and-gentlemen,  too,  many's  you  could 
pick  in  the  bush  !  " 

**  Ladies-and-gentlemen  !  Sounds  funny  in  this 
desert,  don't  it?"  asked  the  lad.  ''What  are 
ladies-and-gentlemen  ?  " 

"Don't  you  know?"  continued  the  gambler, 
unfolding  a  curious  lore  of  flowers.  '*  Those  little 
potty,  white  things,  split  up  the  middle  with  a 
green  head  on  top — grow  under  ferns.  Come  on. 
Cards  are  ready  !     Who's  going  to  play?  " 

"  Durn  it!  Them's  Dutchman's  breeches!" 
exclaimed  the  sun-browned  trapper.  '' O  Goll ! 
If  that  Little  Stature  finds  any  Dutchman's 
breeches,  she  that's  so  scared  of  us  men  !  O  GoU  ! 
Won't  she  blush  ?  Say,  babe,  why  don't  y'r  fill 
y'r  hat  with  *em  and  put  'em  in  her  tent?"  and 
the  big  trapper  set  up  a  hoarse  guffaw  which  led 
a  general  chorus.  Then  the  men  gathered  round 
to  play. 

"  Faith,  lads ! "  interrupted  the  voice  of  the 
Irish  priest,  who  had  come  upon  the  group  so 
quietly  the  gambler  scarcely  had  time  to  tuck  the 
tell-tale  cards  under  his  buckskin  smock,  "  I'm 
thinking  ye've  all  developed  a  mighty  sudden  in- 
terest in  botany.  Are  there  any  bleeding  hearts 
in  the  bush  ?  " 

"There  may  be  here,"  suggested  the  boy. 

"  It  all  comes  of  the  Little  Statute  !  "  declared 
the  big  trapper. 

"Oh!    You    and   your  Stature   and   Statute! 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary^      137 

Why  can't  you  say  Statue  ?"  asked  the  lad  with 
the  pompous  scorn  of  youthful  knowledge. 

''  Because,  oh,  babe  with  the  chicken-down," 
answered  the  man,  giving  his  corrector  a  thud 
with  his  broad  palm  and  sticking  heroically  by 
his  slip  of  the  tongue,  '*  I  says  the  words  I  means 
and  don't  play  no  prig.  She  don't  pay  more  at- 
tention to  you  than  if  you  wuz  a  stump,  that's 
why  she's  a  statue,  ain't  it  ?  And  the  fellows  've 
got  to  stretch  their  necks  to  come  up  to  her  ideas 
of  what's  proper,  that's  why  she's  a  stature,  ain't 
it?  And  not  a  man  of  us,  if  His  Reverence  '11 
excuse  me  for  saying  so,  dare  let  out  a  cuss  afore 
her.     That's  why  she's  a  statute,  ain't  it  ?  " 

And  when  I  walked  off  to  the  bush  with  as 
great  a  show  of  indifference  as  I  could  muster,  I 
heard  the  priest  crying  ''  Bravo  !  "  to  the  man's 
defence.  How  came  it  that  I  was  in  the  woods 
slushing  through  damp  mold  up  to  my  ankles  in 
black  ooze  ?  I  no  longer  had  any  fear  of  an  am- 
bushed enemy  ;  for  Le  Grand  Diable,  the  knave, 
had  forfeited  his  wages  and  deserted  at  Fort  Wil- 
liam. He  was  not  seen  after  the  night  of  the 
meeting  with  the  Hudson's  Bay  canoe  off  the 
flats.  I  drew  Father  Holland's  attention  to  this, 
and  the  priest  was  no  longer  so  sceptical  about 
that  phantom  boat.  But  it  was  not  of  these 
things  I  thought,  as  I  tore  a  great  strip  of  bark 
from  the  trunk  of  a  birch  tree  and  twisted  the 
piece  into  a  huge  cornucopia.  Nor  had  I  the 
slightest  expectation  of  encountering  father  and 
daughter  in  the  woods.     That    marble  face   was 


138  Lords  of  the  North     - 

too  much  in  earnest  for  the  vainest  of  men  to 
suppose  its  indifference  assumed  ;  and  no  matter 
how  fair  the  eyes,  no  man  Hkes  to  be  looked  at, 
by  eyes  that  do  not  see  him,  or  see  him  only  as  a 
blur  on  the  landscape.  Still  that  marble  face 
stood  for  much  that  is  dear  to  the  roughest  of 
hearts  and  about  which  men  do  not  talk.  So  I 
went  on  packing  damp  moss  into  the  bottom  of 
the  bark  horn,  arranging  frail  lilies  and  night 
shades  about  the  rim  and  laying  a  solid  pyramid 
of  violets  in  the  centre.  The  mold,-  through 
which  I  was  floundering,  seemed  to  merge  into  a 
bog ;  but  the  lower  reaches  were  hidden  by  a 
thicket  of  alder  bushes  and  scrub  willows.  I 
mounted  a  fallen  tree  and  tried  to  get  cautiously 
down  to  some  tempting  lily-pads.  Evidently 
some  one  else  on  the  other  side  of  the  brush  was 
after  those  same  bulbs;  for  I  heard  the  sucking 
sound  of  steps  plunging  through  the  mire  of 
water  and  mud. 

*'Why,  Gillespie,"  called  a  voice,  "what  in  the 
world  are  you  doing  here?  "  and  the  boy  emerged 
through  the  willows  gaping  at  me  in  astonish- 
ment. 

''  Just  what  I  want  to  know  of  you,"  said  I. 

He  presented  a  comical  figure.  His  socks  and 
moccasins  had  been  tied  and  slung  round  his  neck. 
With  trousers  rolled  to  his  knees,  a  hatful  of  water- 
lilies  in  one  hand  and  a  sheaf  of  ferns  in  the  other, 
he  was  wading  through  the  swamp. 

''You  see,"  he  began  sheepishly.  '' I  thought 
she  couldn't — couldn't  conveniently  get  these  for 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary      139 

herself,  and  it  would  be  kind  of  nice — kind  of  nice 
— you  know — to  get  some  for  her " 

*'  Don't  explain,"  I  blurted  out.  ''  I  was  try- 
ing that  same  racket  myself." 

"You  know,  Gillespie,"  he  continued  quite 
confidentially,  ''when  a  man's  been  away  from 
his  mother  and  sisters  for  years  and  years  and 
years " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  babe ;  you're  an  octogenarian,"  I 
interrupted. 

"And  feels  himself  going  utterly  to  the  bow- 
wows without  any  stop-gear  to  keep  him  from 
bowling  clean  to  the  bottom,  a  person  feels  like 
doing  something  decent  for  a  girl  like  the  Little 
Statue,"  and  the  youth  plucked  half  a  dozen 
yellow  flowers  as  well  as  the  coveted  white  ones. 
"  Have  some  for  your  basket,"  said  he.  His  face 
was  puckered  into  pathetic  gravity.  "  It's  so 
hanged  easy  to  go  to  the  bow-wows  out  here,"  he 
added. 

"  Not  so  easy  as  in  the  towns,"  I  interjected. 

"  Ah  !  but  I've  been  there,  gone  all  through  'em 
in  the  towns,"  he  explained.  "That's  why  the 
pater  packed  me  off  to  this  wilderness." 

And  that,  thought  I,  is  why  the  west  gets  all 
the  credit  for  the  wild  oats  gathered  in  old  lands 
and  sown  in  the  new  world.  I  pulled  him  up  to 
the  log  on  which  I  was  balanced,  and  seating 
himself  he  dangled  his  feet  down  and  began  to 
souse  the  mud  off  his  toes. 

"  Say  !  "  he  exclaimed.  ''  How  are  you  going  to 
get  'em  to  her?  " 


I40  Lords  of  the  North  ' 

"  Take  them  to  the  tent." 

"  Well,  Gillespie,  when  you  take  yours  up,  take 
mine  along,  too,  will  you  ?  There's  a  good  fellow  ! 
Do  !  "     He  was  drawing  on  his  socks. 

"  Not  much  I  will.  If  there's  any  proxy,  you 
can  take  mine,"  I  returned. 

"  Say !  Do  you  think  Father  Holland  would 
take  'em  up?"  He  had  tied  his  moccasins  and 
was  standing. 

"  Can't  say  I  think  he  would." 

**  He'd  let  you  hear  about  it  to  all  eternity,  too, 
wouldn't  he  ?  "  reflected  the  lad.  ''  Come  on,  then  ; 
but  you  go  first."  And  he  followed  me  up  the 
log,  both  of  us  feeling  like  shame-faced  school- 
boys. We  stole  into  the  tent,  the  one  tent  of  all 
others  that  had  interest  for  us  that  night,  and 
deposited  our  burden  of  flowers  on  the  couch  of 
buffalo  robes. 

'' Hurry,"  whispered  my  companion.  "Stack 
these  ferns  round  somewhere!  Hurry!  She'll 
be  back."  And  leaving  me  to  do  the  arranging 
he  bolted  for  the  tent  flaps.  '*  Oh  !  Open  earth 
and  swallow  me  ! "  he  almost  screamed,  and  I 
heard  the  sound  of  two  persons  coming  in  violent 
collision  at  the  entrance. 

''  The  babe,  as  I  live !  The  rascally  young 
broth  of  a  babe!  Ye  rogue,  ye !"  burred  the 
deep  bass  tones  of  the  trader  whom  I  had  met  over 
Louis  Laplante.    "  What  are  ye  doin'  here  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  is  it  only  you  ?  Thank  fortune  !  "  ejacu- 
lated the  boy,  dodging  back.  ''What  are  you 
doing  yourself?      Great  guns!    You  scared  the 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary      141 

wits  out  of  me  !  Ho  !  Here's  a  lark  !  Gillespie, 
my  pal,  look  here !  '*  I  turned  to  see  the  sheepish, 
guilty,  smirking  faces  of  the  trader,  the  rough- 
tongued,  sunburned  trapper  and  the  ragged 
gambler  grouped  at  the  entrance,  and  each  man's 
arms  were  full  of  flowers. 

"Well,  I'm  durned  !  "  began  the  rough  man. 

"As  she's  jack-spotted  us  all,"  drawled  the 
gentle,  liquid  tones  of  the  gambler,  "  we'd  better 
go  ahead  and " 

"  And  decorate  a  bit  of  statuary,"  shouted  the 
lad  with  a  laugh. 

It  was  a  long  tent,  like  the  booth  of  a  fair,  with 
supports  at  each  end,  and  we  were  festooning  it 
from  pole  to  pole  with  moss  and  ferns  when  some- 
body rasped  at  the  door.  "  Mon  alive  !  What's 
goin'  on  here  ?  "  We  started  from  our  work  with 
the  guilty  alacrity  of  burglars.  There  stood 
Frances  Sutherland's  father,  much  aghast  at  the 
proceedings,  and  by  his  side  was  a  face  with 
cheeks  flaming  poppy  red  and  lips  twitching  in 
merriment.  There  was  a  sudden  snow-storm  of 
flowers  being  tossed  down,  and  five  men  brushed 
past  the  two  spectators  and  dashed  into  the 
hiding  of  gathering  dusk.  At  the  foot  of  the 
knoll  I  ran  against  the  priest. 

"  That,"  roared  Father  Holland,  shaking  with 
laughter.  "  That's  what  I  call  good  stuff  in  the 
rough  !  Faith,  but  ye'll  give  me  good  stuff  in 
the  rough.  I  want  none  o'  yer  gilded  chivalry 
from  the  tinsel  towns  !  " 

There  was  a  wreath  of  night-shades  in  the  Little 


14^  Lords  of  the  North 

Statue's  hat  when  the  canoes  set  out  next  morn- 
ing. Mayflowers  were  at  her  throat,  violets  in 
her  girdle  and  I  know  not  what  in  a  basket  at  her 
feet.  The  face  was  unconscious  of  us  as  ever, 
but  about  the  downcast  eyelids  played  a  tender 
gentleness  which  was  not  there  before.  Once  I 
caught  her  glancing  back  among  us  as  if  she  would 
pick  out  the  culprits  ;  and  when  her  eyes  for  a 
moment  rested  on  me,  my  heart  set  up  a  silly 
thumping.  But  she  looked  just  as  pointedly  at 
the  others,  and  I  know  every  man's  heart  of  them 
responded ;  for  the  boy  began  such  a  floundering 
I  thought  he  would  spill  his  canoe.  A  quick  trip 
brought  us  to  the  mouth  of  Red  River,  where  the 
Hudson's  Bay  voyageiirs  under  Colin  Robertson 
were  resting.  Here  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that 
Eric  Hamilton  had  not  waited  but  had  hastened 
up  Red  River  to  Fort  Douglas.  I  could  not  but 
connect  this  southward  move  of  his  with  the 
sudden  flight  of  Le  Grand  Diable  from  Fort 
William. 

After  brief  pause  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Winnipeg, 
our  brigade  turned  southward  and  made  speed  up 
the  Red  through  the  rush-grown  sedgy  swamps 
which  over-flood  the  river  bed.  Farther  south  the 
banks  towered  high  and  smoke  curled  up  from 
the  huts  of  Lord  Selkirk's  settlers.  Women  with 
nets  in  their  hands  to  scare  ofT  myriad  blackbirds 
that  clouded  the  air,  and  men  from  the  cornfields 
ran  to  the  river  edge  and  cheered  us  as  we  passed. 
Here  the  Sutherlands  landed.  Some  of  the  traders 
thought  it  a  good  omen,  that  Hudson's  Bay  set- 


if'V 


Decorating  a  Bit  of  Statuary       143 

tiers  cheered  Nor'-Wester  brigades  ;  but  in  one 
bend  of  the  muddy  Red,  the  bastions  of  Fort 
Douglas,  where  Governor  McDonell  of  the  rival 
company  ruled,  loomed  up  and  the  guns  pointing 
across  the  river  wore  anything  but  a  welcome 
look. 

We  passed  Fort  Douglas  unmolested,  followed 
the  Red  a  mile  farther  to  its  junction  with  the 
Assiniboine  and  here  disembarked  at  Fort  Gibral- 
tar, the  headquarters  of  the  Nor'-Westers  in  Red 
River. 


CHAPTER  X 

MORE   STUDIES   IN  STATUARY 

"  So  he  laughs  at  our  warrant  ?  "  exclaimed 
Duncan  Cameron.  ''  Hut-tut !  We'll  teach  him 
to  respect  warrants  issued  under  authority  of  43d 
King  George  HI.,"  and  the  dictator  of  Fort  Gib- 
raltar fussed  angrily  among  the  papers  of  his  desk 
and  beat  a  threatening  tattoo  with  knuckles  and 
heels. 

The  Assiniboine  enters  the  Red  at  something 
like  a  right  angle  and  in  this  angle  was  the  Nor'- 
Westers'  fort,  named  after  an  old-world  strong- 
hold, because  we  imagined  our  position  gave  us 
the  same  command  of  the  two  waterways  by 
which  the  voyageiirs  entered  and  left  the  north 
country  as  Gibraltar  has  of  the  Mediterranean. 
Governor  McDonell  had  thought  to  outwit  us  by 
building  the  Hudson's  Bay  fort  a  mile  further 
down  the  current  of  the  Red.  It  was  a  sharp  trick, 
for  Fort  Douglas  could  intercept  Nor'-West 
brigades  bound  from  Montreal  to  Fort  Gibraltar, 
or  from  Fort  Gibraltar  to  the  Athabasca.  Two 
days  after  our  arrival,  Cuthbert  Grant,  with  a 
band  o{  Bois-BruUs,  had  gone  to  Fort  Douglas  to 
arrest  Captain  Miles  McDonell  for  plundering 
Nor'-West  posts.  The  doughty  governor  took 
144 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  145 

Grant's  warrant  as  a  joke  and  scornfully  turned 
the  whole  North-West  party  out  of  Fort  Doug- 
las. On  the  stockades  outside  were  procla- 
mations commanding  settlers  to  take  up  arms  in 
defense  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  traders  and  forbid- 
ding natives  to  sell  furs  to  any  but  our  rivals. 
These  things  added  fuel  to  the  hot  anger  of  the 
chafing  Bois-Briilh.  A  curious  race  were  these 
mongrel  plain-rangers,  with  all  the  savage  instincts 
of  the  wild  beast  and  few  of  the  brutal  impulses 
of  the  beastly  man.  The  descendants  of  French 
fathers  and  Indian  mothers,  they  inherited  all  the 
quick,  fiery  daring  of  the  Frenchman,  all  the  en- 
durance, craft  and  courage  of  the  Indian,  and  all 
the  indolence  of  both  white  man  and  red.  One 
might  cut  his  enemy's  throat  and  wash  his  hands 
in  the  life  blood,  or  spend  years  in  accomplishing 
revenge;  but  it  is  a  question  if  there  is  a  single  in- 
stance on  record  of  a  Bois-Bruli  molesting  an 
enemy's  family.  When  the  Frenchman  married 
a  native  woman,  he  cast  off  civilization  like  an 
ill-fitting  coat  and  virtually  became  an  Indian. 
When  the  Scotch  settler  married  a  native  woman, 
he  educated  her  up  to  his  own  level  and  if  she 
did  not  become  entirely  civilized,  her  children 
did.  One  was  the  wild  man,  the  Ishmaelite  of 
the  desert,  the  other,  the  tiller  of  the  soil,  the 
Israelite  of  the  plain.  Such  were  the  tameless 
men,  of  whom  Cuthbert  Grant  was  the  leader,  the 
leader  solely  from  his  fitness  to  lead. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  warden 
returned  from  Fort  Douglas.     I  was  busy  over  my 
10 


146  Lords  of  the  North 

desk.  Father  Holland  was  still  with  us  awaiting 
the  departure  of  traders  to  the  south,  and  Duncan 
Cameron  was  stamping  about  the  room  like  a  caged 
lion.  There  came  a  quick,  angry  tramp  from  the 
hall. 

*'  That's  Grant  back,  and  there's  no  one  with 
him,"  muttered  Cameron  with  suppressed  anger; 
and  in  burst  the  warden  himself,  his  heavy  brows 
dark  with  fury  and  his  eyes  flashing  like  the  fire 
at  a  pistol  point.  Involuntarily  I  stopped  work 
and  the  priest  glanced  across  at  me  with  a  look 
which  bespoke  expectation  of  an  explosion.  Grant 
did  not  storm.  That  was  not  his  way.  He  took 
several  turns  about  the  room,  mastered  himself, 
and  speaking  through  his  teeth  said  quietly, 
"There  be  some  fools  that  enjoy  playing  with 
gunpowder.  I'm  not  one  of  them  !  There  be 
some  idiots  that  like  teasing  tigers.  'Tis  not 
sport  to  my  fancy !  There  be  some  pot-valiant 
braggarts  that  defy  the  law.  Let  them  enjoy  the 
breaking  of  the  law  !  " 

"  What— what— what  ?"  sputtered  the  High- 
land governor,  springing  first  on  one  side  of  Grant 
and  then  on  the  other,  all  the  while  rumbling  out 
maledictions  on  Lord  Selkirk,  and  Governor  Mc- 
Donell  and  Fort  Douglas.  "  What  do  ye  say, 
mon  ?  Do  I  understand  ye  clearly,  there's  no 
prisoners  with  ye  ?  " 

"  Laughs  at  the  Bois-Brtdes.  The  fool  laughs 
at  the  Bois-Brules  !  I've  seen  gophers  cock  their 
eye  at  a  wolf,  before  that  same  wolf  made  a  break- 
fast of  gophers!     The  fool  laughs  at  your  war- 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  147 

rant,  Sir  !  Scouted  it,  Sir  I  Bundled  us  out  of 
Fort  Douglas  like  cattle  !  "  The  warden  went  on 
in  a  bitter  strain  to  tell  of  the  effect  of  the  posted 
proclamations  on  his  followers. 

"  So  the  lordly  Captain  Miles  ]\IcDonell  of  the 
Queen's  Rangers,  generalissimo  of  all  creation, 
defies  us,  does  he?"  demanded  Cameron  in  great 
dudgeon,  scarcely  crediting  his  ears. 

"  Aye  !  "  answered  Grant,  "  but  he  can  ill  afford 
to  be  so  high  and  mighty.  We  went  through  the 
settlement  and  half  the  people  are  with  us " 

'*  That's  good  !  That's  good  !  "  responded  Cam- 
eron with  keen  relish. 

''  They're  heartily  sick  of  the  country,"  con- 
tinued the  warden,  ''and  would  leave  to-morrow 
if  we'd  supply  the  boats.  Last  winter  they 
nearly  starved.  The  company's  generous  supply 
was  rancid  grease  and  wormy  flour." 

*'  Fine  way  o'  colonizing  a  country,"  stormed 
Cameron,  ''  bring  men  out  as  settlers  and  arm 
them  to  fight !  We'll  spike  his  guns  by  shipping 
a  score  more  away." 

''We've  spiked  his  guns  in  a  better  way,"  said 
Grant  dryly.  "Some  of  the  friendlies  are  so 
afraid  he'll  take  their  guns  away  and  leave  them 
defenceless  unless  they  fight  us,  they've  sent  their 
arms  here  for  safekeeping.  We'll  keep  them 
safe,  I'll  warrant."  Grant  smiled,  showing  his 
white  teeth  in  a  way  that  was  not  pleasant  to  see, 
and  somehow  reminded  me  of  a  dog's  snarl. 

"  Good  !  Good  !  Excellent,  Grant."  Such 
strategy    pleased    Cameron.      "  See    here,  mon, 


148  Lords  of  the  North 

Cuthbert,  we've  the  law  on  our  side — we've  the 
warrants  to  back  the  law  !  We'd  better  give  yon 
dour  fool  a  lesson.  He's  broken  the  peace.  We 
haven't.  Come  out,  an'  I'll  talk  it  over  with 
ye  I 

The  two  went  out,  Grant  saying  as  they  passed 
the  window — "  Let  him  tamper  with  the  fur  trade 
among  the  Indians  and  I'll   not  answer  for  it ! 

That  last  order  not  to  sell "     The  rest  of  the 

remark  I  lost. 

"  'Twould  serve  him  well  right  if  they  did," 
returned  Cameron,  and  both  men  walked  beyond 
hearing. 

Father  Holland  and  I  were  left  alone.  The 
fort  became  ominously  still.  There  was  a  dis- 
tant clatter  of  receding  hoofs ;  but  we  were  on 
the  south  side  of  the  warehouse  and  could  not 
see  which  way  the  horses  were  galloping. 

"  I'm  afraid — I'm  afraid  both  sides  will  be 
rash,"  observed  the  priest. 

The  sun-dial  indicated  six  o'clock.  I  closed 
and  locked  the  office  desks.  We  had  supper  in 
the  deserted  dining-hall.  Afterwards  we  strolled 
to  the  northeast  gate,  and  looking  in  the  direction 
of  Fort  Douglas,  wondered  what  scheme  could  be 
afoot.  Here  my  testimony  need  not  be  taken 
for,  or  against,  either  side.  All  I  saw  was  Dun- 
can Cameron  with  the  other  white  men  of  the 
fort  standing  on  a  knoll  some  distance  from  Fort 
Gibraltar,  evidently  gazing  towards  Fort  Douglas. 
Against  the  sky,  above  the  settlement,  there  were 
clouds  of  rising  smoke. 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  149 

"  Burning  hay-ricks  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  Aye,  and  houses  !  'Tis  shameless  work  leav- 
ing the  people  exposed  to  the  blasts  of  next 
winter  !  Shameless,  shameless  work  !  Y'r  com- 
pany '11  gain  nothing  by  it,  Rufus  ! " 

Across  the  night  came  faint,  short  snappings 
like  a  fusillade  of  shots. 

"  Looting  the  neutrals,"  said  the  priest.  *'  God 
grant  there  be  no  blood  on  the  plains  this  night ! 
These  fool  traders  don't  realize  what  it  means  to 
rouse  blood  in  an  Indian  !  They'll  get  a  lesson 
yet  I  Give  the  red  devils  a  taste  of  blood  and 
there  won't  be  a  white  unscalped  to  the  Rockies! 
I've  seen  y'r  fine,  clever  rascals  play  the  Indian 
against  rivals,  and  the  game  always  ends  the  same 
way.  The  Indian  is  a  weapon  that's  quick  to  cut 
the  hand  of  the  user." 

Little  did  I  realize  my  part  in  the  terrible  ful- 
filment of  that  prophecy. 

''  Look  alive,  lad  !  Where  are  y'r  wits  ?  What's 
that?"  he  cried,  suddenly  pointing  to  the  river 
bank. 

Up  from  the  cliff  sprang  a  form  as  if  by  magic. 
It  came  leaping  straight  to  the  fort  gate. 

*'  Some  frightened  half-breed  wench,"  surmised 
the  priest. 

I  saw  it  was  a  woman  with  a  shawl  over  her 
head  like  a  native. 

"  Bo7i  soir  !  "  said  I  after  the  manner  of  traders 
with  Indian  women;  but  she  rushed  blindly  on 
to  the  gate. 

The  fort  was  deserted.     Suspicion  of  treachery 


1 50  Lords  of  the  North 

flashed  on  me.  How  many  more  half-breeds  were 
beneath  that  diff  ? 

''  Stop,  huzzie  I  "  I  ordered,  springing  forward 
and  catching  her  so  tightly  by  the  wrist  that  she 
swung  half-way  round  before  she  could  check 
herself.  She  wrenched  vigorously  to  get  free. 
"  Stop  !     Be  still,  you  huzzie  !  " 

"Be  still — you  what  ?"  asked  a  low,  amazed 
voice  that  broke  in  ripples  and  froze  my  blood. 
A  shawl  fluttered  to  the  ground,  and  there  stood 
before  us  the  apparition  of  a  marble  face. 

"The  Little  Statue  I"  I  gasped  in  sheer  horror 
at  what  I  had  done. 

"  The  little — what  ?  "  asked  the  rippling  voice, 
that  sounded  like  cold  water  flowing  under  ice, 
and  a  pair  of  eyes  looked  angrily  down  at  the 
hand  with  which  I  was  still  unconsciously  grip- 
ping her  arm. 

"  I'd  thank  you.  Sir,"  she  began,  with  a  mock 
courtesy  to  the  priest,  "  I'd  thank  you,  Sir,  to  call 
off  your  mastiff." 

**  Let  her  go,  boy !  "  roared  the  priest  with  a 
hammering  blow  across  my  forearm  that  brought 
me  to  my  senses  and  convinced  me  she  was  no 
wraith. 

Mastiff  !  That  epithet  stung  to  the  quick.  I 
flung  her  wrist  from  me  as  if  it  had  been  hot 
coals.  Now,  a  woman  may  tread  upon  a  man — 
also  stamp  upon  him  if  she  has  a  mind  to — but 
she  must  trip  it  daintily.  Otherwise  even  a  worm 
may  turn  against  its  tormentor.  To  have  idolized 
that  marble  creature  by  day  and  night,  to  have 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  151 

laid  our  votive  offerings  on  its  shrine,  to  have 
hungered  for  the  sound  of  a  woman's  lips  for 
weeks,  and  to  hear  those  lips  cuttingly  call  me  a 
dog — were  more  than  I  could  stand. 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons,  Mistress  Sutherland  !  " 
I  said  with  a  pompous  stiffness  which  I  intended 
should  be  mighty  crushing.  ''  But  when  ladies 
deck  themselves  out  as  squaws  and  climb  in  and 
out  of  windows," — that  was  brutal  of  me  ;  she 
had  done  it  for  Miriam  and  me — ''  and  announce 
themselves  in  unexpected  ways,  they  need  not 
hope  to  be  recognized." 

And  did  she  flare  back  at  me  ?    Not  at  all. 

"  You  waste  time  with  your  long  speeches," 
she  said,  turning  from  me  to  Father  Holland, 

Thereupon  I  strode  off  angrily  to  the  river 
bank. 

"Oh,  Father  Holland,"  I  heard  her  say  as  I 
walked  away,  "  I  must  go  to  Pembina!  I'm  in 
such  trouble  !    There's  a  Frenchman " 

Trouble,  thought  I ;  she  is  in  trouble  and  I 
have  been  thinking  only  of  my  own  dignity. 
And  I  stood  above  the  river,  torn  between  desire 
to  rush  back  and  wounded  pride,  that  bade  me 
stick  it  out.  Over  the  plains  came  the  shout  of 
returning  plunderers.  I  could  hear  the  throb, 
throb  of  galloping  hoofs  beating  nearer  and  nearer 
over  the  turf,  and  reflected  that  I  might  make  the 
danger  from  returning  Bois-Brules  the  occasion 
of  a  reconciliation. 

"Come  here,  lad!"  called  Father  Holland.  I 
needed  no  urging.     "  Ye  must  rig  up  in  tam-o'- 


iS2  Lords  of  the  North 

shanterand  tartan,  like  a  Highland  settler,  and  take 
Mistress  Sutherland  back  to  Fort  Douglas.  She's 
going  to  Pembina  to  meet  her  father,  lad,  when  I 
go  south  to  the  Missouri.  And,  lad,"  the  priest 
hesitated,  glancing  doubtfully  from  Miss  Suther- 
land to  me,  '*  I'm  thinking  there's  a  service  ye 
might  do  her." 

The  Little  Statue  was  looking  straight  at  me 
now,  and  there  were  tear-marks  about  the  heavy 
lashes.  Now,  I  do  not  pretend  to  explain  the 
power,  or  witchery,  a  gentle  slip  of  a  girl  can  wield 
with  a  pair  of  gray  eyes ;  but  when  I  met  the 
furtive  glance  and  saw  the  white,  veined  fore- 
head, the  arched  brows,  the  tremulous  lips,  the 
rounded  chin,  and  the  whole  face  glorified  by  that 
wonderful  mass  of  hair,  I  only  know,  without 
weapon  or  design,  she  dealt  me  a  wound  which  I 
bear  to  this  day.  What  a  rufifian  I  had  been  !  I 
was  ashamed,  and  my  eyes  fell  before  hers.  If 
a  libation  of  blushes  could  appease  an  offended 
goddess,  I  was  livid  evidence  of  repentance.  I 
felt  myself  flooded  in  a  sudden  heat  of  shame. 
She  must  have  read  my  confusion,  for  she  turned 
away  her  head  to  hide  mantling  forgiveness. 

"  There's  a  crafty  Frenchman  in  the  fort  has 
been  troubling  the  lassie.  I'm  thinking,  if  ye 
worked  off  some  o'  your  anger  on  him,  it  moight 
be  for  the  young  man's  edification.  Be  quick  !  I 
hear  the  breeds  returning  !  " 

*'  But  I  have  a  message,"  she  said  in  choking 
tones. 

"  From  whom  ?  "  I  asked  aimlessly  enough. 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  153 

"  Eric  Hamilton  !  "  she  answered. 

"  Eric  Hamilton ! "  both  the  priest  and  I 
shouted. 

<»  Yes— why?  What— what— is  it?  He*s 
wounded,  and  he  wants  a  Rufus  Gillespie,  who*s 
with  the  Nor'-Westers.  The  Bois-Brules  fired  on 
the  fort.     Where  is  Rufus  Gillespie?" 

''  Bless  you,  lassie  !  Here — here — here  he  is  ! " 
The  holy  father  thumped  my  back  at  every  word. 
"  Here  he  is,  crazy  as  a  March  hare  for  news  of 
Hamilton  !  " 

*'  You — Rufus — Gillespie  !  "  So  she  did  not 
even  know  my  name.  Evidently,  if  she  troubled 
my  thoughts,  I  did  not  trouble  hers. 

"  He's  told  me  so  much  about  you,"  she  went 
on,  with  a  little  pant  of  astonishment.  "  How 
brave  and  good " 

"  Pshaw  !  "  I  interrupted  roughly.  "  What's 
the  message  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hamilton  wishes  to  see  you  at  once,"  she 
answered  coldly. 

*'  Then  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone !  Take 
her  home  and  see  Hamilton — and  hurry  !  "  urged 
the  priest. 

The  half-breeds  were  now  very  near. 

"■  Put  it  over  your  head  !  "  and  Father  Holland 
clapped  the  shawl  about  Frances  Sutherland  after 
the  fashion  of  the  half-breed  women. 

She  stood  demurely  behind  him  while  I  ran 
up-stairs  in  the  warehouse  to  disguise  myself  in 
tartan  plaid.  When  I  came  out,  Duncan  Cameron 
was  in  the  gateway  welcoming  Cuthbert  Grant 


154  Lords  of  the  North 

and  the  Bois-BrtiUs,  as  if  pillaging  defenceless 
settlers  were  heroic.  Victors  from  war  may  be 
inspiring,  but  a  half-breed  rabble,  red-handed  from 
deeds  of  violence,  is  not  a  sight  to  edify  any 
man. 

**  What's  this  ye  have.  Father  ?"  bawled  one 
impudent  fellow,  and  he  pointed  sneeringly  at  the 
figure  in  the  folds  of  the  shawl. 

''  Let  the  wench  be !  "  was  the  priest's  reply, 
and  the  half-breed  lounged  past  with  a  laugh. 

I  was  about  to  offer  Frances  Sutherland  my 
arm  to  escort  her  from  the  mob,  when  I  felt 
Father  Holland's  hard  knuckles  dig  viciously 
into  my  ribs. 

"  Ye  fool  ye  !  Ye  blundering  idiot !  "  he  whis- 
pered, *'  she's  a  half-breed.  Och  !  But's  time  y'r 
eastern  greenness  was  tannin*  a  good  western 
russet !  Let  her  follow  with  bowed  head,  or 
you'll  have  the  whole  pack  on  y'r  heels !  " 

With  that  admonition  I  strode  boldly  out,  she 
behind,  humble,  with  downcast  eyes  like  a  half- 
breed  girl. 

We  ran  down  the  river  path  through  the  wil- 
lows and  jumping  into  a  canoe  swiftly  rounded 
the  forks  of  the  Assiniboine  and  Red.  There  we 
left  the  canoe  and  fled  along  a  trail  beneath  the 
cliff  till  the  shouting  of  the  half-breeds  could  be 
no  longer  heard.  At  once  I  turned  to  offer  her 
my  arm.  She  must  have  bruised  her  feet  through 
the  thin  moccasins,  for  the  way  was  very  rough. 
I  saw  that  she  was  trembling  from  fatigue. 

*'  Permit   me,"  I  said,  offering  my  arm  as  for- 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  155 

mally  as  if  she  had  been  some  grand  lady  in  an 
eastern  drawing-room. 

"  Thank  you — I'm  afraid  I  must,"  and  she 
reluctantly  placed  a  light  hand  on  my  sleeve. 

I  did  not  like  that  condescending  compulsion, 
and  now  out  of  danger,  I  became  strangely 
embarrassed  and  angry  in  her  presence.  The 
"  mastiff  "  epithet  stuck  like  a  barb  in  my  boyish 
chivalry.  Was  it  the  wind,  or  a  low  sigh,  or  a 
silent  weeping,  that  I  heard  ?  I  longed  to  know, 
but  would  not  turn  my  head,  and  my  companion 
was  lagging  just  a  step  behind.  I  slackened 
speed,  so  did  she.  Then  a  voice  so  low  and 
soft  and  golden  it  might  have  melted  a  heart 
of  stone — but  what  is  a  heart  of  stone  com- 
pared to  the  wounded  pride  of  a  young  man  ? — 
said,  *'  Do  you  know,  I  think  I  rather  like  mas- 
tiffs ?  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  I  icily,  in  no  mood  for  raillery. 

**  Like  t/iem  for  friends,  not  enemies,  to  be  pro- 
tected by  t/ie7ny  not — not  bitten,"  the  voice  con- 
tinued with  a  provoking  emphasis  of  the  plural 
''  themr 

*'  Yes,"  said  I,  with  equal  emphasis  of  the  ob- 
noxious plural.  "  Ladies  find  the7n  useful  at 
times." 

That  fling  silenced  her  and  I  felt  a  shiver  run 
down  the  arm  on  my  sleeve. 

*' Why,  you're  shivering,"  I  blundered  out. 
*'You  must  let  me  put  this  round  you,"  and  I 
pulled  off  the  plaid  and  would  have  placed  it  on 
her  shoulders,  but  she  resisted. 


156  Lords  of  the  North 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  cold,"  she  answered 
frigidly — which  is  the  only  untruth  I  ever  heard 
her  tell — ''and  you  shall  not  say  'must'  to  me," 
and  she  took  her  hand  from  my  arm.  She  spoke 
with  a  tremor  that  warned  me  not  to  insist. 
Then  I  knew  why  she  had  shivered. 

''  Please  forgive.  Miss  Sutherland,"  I  begged. 
"  I'm  such  a  maladroit  animal." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  a  maladroit  mastiff 
with  teeth  ! " 

Mastiff !  That  insult  again  !  I  di-d  not  re- 
proffer  my  arm.  We  strode  forward  once  more, 
she  with  her  face  turned  sideways  remote  from 
me,  I  with  my  face  sideways  remote  from  her, 
and  the  plaid  trailing  from  my  hand  by  way  of 
showing  her  she  could  have  it  if  she  wished.  We 
must  have  paced  along  in  this  amiable,  post- 
matrimonial  fashion  for  quite  a  quarter  of  the 
mile  we  had  to  go,  and  I  was  awkwardly  con- 
scious of  suppressed  laughing  from  her  side.  It 
was  the  rippling  voice,  that  always  seemed  to  me 
like  fountain  splash  in  the  sunshine,  which  broke 
silence  again. 

"  Really,"  said  the  low,  thrilHng,  musical  witch- 
ery by  my  side,  "  really,  it's  the  most  wonderful 
story  I  have  ever  heard  !  " 

"  Story  ?  "     I  queried,  stopping  stock  still  and 

gaping  at  her. 

"  Perfectly  wonderful !  So  intensely  interest- 
ing and  delightful." 

''  Interesting  and  delightful  ?  "  I  interrogated 
in    sheer   amazement.     This    girl    utterly   dum- 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  157 

founded  me,  and  in  the  conceit  of  youth  I  thought 
it  strange  that  any  girl  could  dumfound  me. 

''  What  an  interesting  life  you  have  had,  to  be 
sure  1 

**  I  have  had  ?  " 

"  Yes,  don't  you  know  youVe  been  talking  in 
torrents  for  the  past  ten  minutes  ?  No  ?  Do  you 
forget  ?  "  and  she  laughed  tremulously  either  from 
embarrassment,  or  cold. 

"  Well !  "  said  I,  befooled  into  good-humor  and 
laughing  back.  "  If  you  give  me  a  day's  warning, 
I'll  try  to  keep  up  with  you." 

"Ah  !  There  !  I've  put  you  through  the  ice 
at  last !     It's  been  such  hard  work !  " 

"  And  I  come  up  badly  doused  !  " 

"  Stimulated  too !  You're  doing  well  al- 
ready !  " 

"  My  thanks  to  my  instructor,"  and  catching 
the  spirit  of  her  mockery,  I  swept  her  a  courtly 
bow. 

*'  There  !  There  !  "  she  cried,  dropping  raillery 
as  soon  as  I  took  it  up.  '*  You  were  cross  at  the 
window.  I  was  cross  on  the  flats.  You  nearly 
wrenched  my  hand  off " 

''Can  you  blame  me?"  I  asked.  "And  to 
pay  me  back  you  turned  my  head  and  stole  my 
heart " 

"  Hush  !  "  she  interrupted.  "  Let's  clean  the 
slate  and  begin  again." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  if  you'll  wear  this  tartan 
and  stop  shivering."  I  was  not  ready  to  consent 
to  an  unconditional  surrender. 


iS8  Lords  of  the  North 

"I  hate  your  Mfs'  and  *  huts 'and  so-much- 
given-for-so-much-got,"  she  exclaimed  with  an 
impatient,  Httle  stamp,  '*  but — but — "  she  added 
inconsistently,  "  if — if — you'll  keep  one  end  of  the 
plaid  for  yourself,  I'll  take  the  other." 

''  Ho— ho  !  I  like  '  ifs  '  and  '  buts.*  Have  you 
more  of  that  kind?"  I  laughed,  whisking  the 
fold  about  us  both.  Drawing  her  hand  into  mine, 
I  kept  it  there. 

"  It  isn't  so  cold  as — as  that,  is  it?"  asked  the 
voice  under  the  plaid. 

*'  Quite,"  I  returned  valiantly,  tightening  my 
clasp.  She  laughed  a  low,  mellow  laugh  that 
set  my  heart  beating  to  the  tune  of  a  trip- 
hammer. I  felt  a  great  intoxication  of  strength 
that  might  have  razed  Fort  Douglas  to  the 
ground  and  conquered  the  whole  world,  which, 
I  dare  say,  other  young  men  have  felt  when  the 
same  kind  of  weight  hung  upon  their  protec- 
tion. 

''  Oh  !  Little  Statue  !  Why  have  you  been 
so  hard  on  us?"     I  began. 

"  Us  ?  "  she  asked. 

'"'  Me — then,"  and  I  gulped  down  my  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  Because " 

"  Because  what  ?  " 

'^  ^o  what.  Just  because!"  She  was  aston- 
ished that  her  decisive  reason  did  not  satisfy. 

"  Because  !     A  woman's  reason  !  "  I  scoffed. 

"■  Because !  It's  the  best  and  wisest  and  most 
"vholesome  reason  ever  invented.     Think  what  it 


J 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  159 

avoids  saying  and  what  wisdom   may  be  behind 
it!" 

*'  Only  wisdom  ?  " 

"  You  be  careful !  There'll  be  another  cold 
plunge !  Tell  me  about  your  friend's  wife, 
Miriam,"  she  answered,  changing  the  subject. 

And  when  I  related  my  strange  mission  and 
she  murmured,  "  How  noble,"  I  became  a  veiy 
Samson  of  strength,  ready  to  vanquish  an  army 
of  Philistine  admirers  with  the  jawbone  of  my 
inflated  self-confidence — provided,  always,  one 
queen  of  the  combat  were  looking  on. 

"Are  you  cold,  now?"  I  asked,  though  the 
trembling  had  ceased. 

No,  she  was  not  cold.  She  was  quite  comfort- 
able, and  the  answer  came  in  vibrant  tones  which 
were  as  wine  to  a  young  man's  heart. 

**  Are  you  tired,  Frances  ?  "  and  the  "  No  "  was 
accompanied  by  a  little  laugh,  which  spurred  more 
questioning  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  hear  the 
music  of  her  voice.  Now,  what  was  there  in 
those  replies  to  cause  happiness  ?  Why  have 
inane  answers  to  inane,  timorous  questions  trans- 
formed earth  into  paradise  and  mortals  into 
angels  ? 

''Do  you  find  the  way  very  far — Frances?" 
The  flavor  of  some  names  tempts  repeated  tast- 
ing. 

"  Very  far?"  came  the  response  in  an  amused 
voice,  "find  it  very  far?  Yes  I  do,  quite  far — 
oh  !  No— I  don't.  Oh  !  I  don't  know  !  "  She 
broke  into  a  joyous  laugh  at  her  own  confusion, 


i6o  Lords  of  the  North 

gaining  more  self-possession  as  I  lost  mine ;  and 
out  she  slipped  from  the  plaid. 

*'  I  wish  it  were  a  thousand  times  farther,"  and 
I  gazed  ruefully  at  the  folds  that  trailed  empty. 

What  other  absurd  things  I  might  have  said,  I 
cannot  tell ;  but  we  were  at  the  fort  and  I  had  to 
wrap  the  tartan,  disguise  about  myself.  Stooping, 
I  picked  a  bunch  of  dog-roses  growing  by  the 
path,  then  felt  foolish,  for  I  had  not  the  courage 
to  give  them  to  her,  and  dropped  them  without 
her  knowledge.  She  gave  the  password  at  the 
gate.  I  was  taken  for  a  Selkirk  Highlander  and 
we  easily  gained  entrance. 

A  man  brushed  past  us  in  the  gloom  of  the 
courtyard.  He  looked  impudently  down  into  her 
face.  It  was  Laplante,  and  my  whole  frame  filled 
with  a  furious  resentment  which  I  had  not  guessed 
could  be  possible  with  me. 

*'  That  Frenchman,"  she  whispered,  but  his 
figure  vanished  among  the  buildings.  She  showed 
me  the  council  hall  where  Eric  could  be  found. 

*'  And  where  do  you  go  ?  "  I  asked  stupidly. 

She  indicated  the  quarters  where  the  settlers 
had  taken  refuge.     I  led  her  to  the  door. 

**  Are  you  sure  you'll  be  safe  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Yes,  quite,  as  long  as  the  settlers  are 
here ;  and  you,  you  will  let  me  know  when  the 
priest  sets  out  for  Pembina?  " 

I  vowed  more  emphatically  than  the  case 
required  that  she  should  know. 

**  Are  there  no  dark  halls  in  there,  unsafe  for 
you?  "  I  questioned. 


More  Studies  in  Statuary  i6i 

"  None,"  and  she  went  up  the  first  step  of  the 
doonvay. 

''Are  you  sure  you're  safe?"  I  also  mounted 
a  step. 

"Yes,  quite,  thank  you,"  and  she  retreated 
farther,  '*  and  you,  have  you  forgotten  you  came 
to  see  Mr.  Hamilton  ?  " 

"  Why — so  I  did,"  I  stammered  out  absently. 

She  was  on  the  top  step,  pulling  the  latch-string 
of  the  great  door. 

'*  Stop  !  Frances — dear  !  "  I  cried. 

She  stood  motionless  and  I  felt  that  this  last 
rashness  of  an  unruly  tongue — too  frank  by  far — 
had  finished  me. 

*'  What  ?  Can  I  do  anything  to  repay  you  for 
your  trouble  in  bringing  me  here  ?  " 

'*  I've  been  repaid,"  I  answered, '' but  indeed, 
indeed,  long  live  the  Queen  !  May  it  please  Her 
Majesty  to  grant  a  token  to  her  leal  and  devoted 
knight " 

**  What  is  thy  request  ?  "  she  asked  laughingly. 
**  What  token  doth  the  knight  covet  ?  " 

''The  token  that  goes  with  good-7iights,''  and  I 
ventured  a  pace  up  the  stairs. 

"  There,  Sir  Knight,"  she  returned,  hastily  put- 
ting out  her  hand,  which  was  not  what  I  wanted, 
but  to  which  I  gratefully  paid  my  devoir.  "  Art 
satisfied  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Till  the  Queen  deigns  more,"  and  I  paused 
for  a  reply. 

She  lingered  on  the  threshold  as  if  she  meant 

to  come  down  to  me,  then  with  a  quick  turn  van- 
II 


1 62  Lords  of  the  North 

ished  behind  the  gloomy  doors,  taking  all  the 
light  of  my  world  with  her  ;  but  I  heard  a  voice, 
as  of  some  happy  bird  in  springtime,  trilling  from 
the  hall  where  she  had  gone,  and  a  new  song 
made  music  in  my  own  heart. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  SHUFFLING    OF  ALLEGIANCE 

Time  was  when  Fort  Douglas  rang  as  loudly 
with  mirth  of  assembled  traders  as  ever  Fort 
William's  council  hall.  Often  have  I  heard  vet- 
erans of  the  Hudson's  Bay  service  relate  how  the 
master  of  revels  used  to  fill  an  ample  jar  with 
corn  and  quaff  a  beaker  of  liquor  for  every  grain 
in  the  drinker's  hour-glass. 

"  How  stands  the  hour-glass?  "  the  governor  of 
the  feast,  who  was  frequently  also  the  governor 
of  the  company,  would  roar  out  in  stentorian 
tones,  that  made  themselves  heard  above  the 
drunken  brawl. 

"  High,  Your  Honor,  high,"  some  flunkey  of 
the  drinking  bout  would  bawl  back. 

Thereupon,  another  grain  was  picked  from  the 
jar,  another  flagon  tossed  down  and  the  revel 
went  on.  This  was  a  usual  occurrence  before  and 
after  the  conflict  with  the  Nor'-Westers.  But 
the  night  that  I  climbed  the  stairs  of  the  main 
warehouse  and,  mustering  up  assurance,  stepped 
into  the  hall  as  if  I  belonged  to  the  fort,  or  the 
fort  belonged  to  me,  there  was  a  different  scene. 
A  wounded  man  lay  on  a  litter  at  the  end  of  the 
long,  low  room  ;  and  the  traders  sitting  on  the 

163 


164  Lords  of  the  North 

benches  against  the  walls,  or  standing  aimlessly 
about,  were  talking  in  suppressed  tones.  Scotch- 
men, driven  from  their  farms  by  the  Bois-Brtiles, 
hung  around  in  anxious  groups.  The  lanterns, 
suspended  on  iron  hooks  from  mid-rafter,  gave 
but  a  dusky  light,  and  I  vainly  scanned  many 
faces  for  Eric  Hamilton.  That  he  was  wounded, 
I  knew.  I  was  stealing  stealthily  towards  the 
stretcher  at  the  far  end  of  the  place,  when  a  deep 
voice  burred  rough  salutation  in  my  ear. 

"  Hoo  are  ye,  gillie  ?  "  It  was  a  shaggy-browed, 
bluff  Scotchman,  who  evidently  took  me  in  my 
tartan  disguise  for  a  Highland  lad.  Whether  he 
meant,  "  How  are  you,"  or'*  Who  are  you,"  I  was 
not  certain.  Afraid  my  tongue  might  betray  me, 
I  muttered  back  an  indistinct  response.  The  Scot 
was  either  suspicious,  or  offended  by  my  churlish- 
ness. I  slipped  off  quickly  to  a  dark  corner,  but 
I  saw  him  eying  me  closely.  A  youth  brushed 
past  humming  a  ditty,  which  seemed  strangely 
out  of  place  in  those  surroundings.  He  stood  an 
elbow's  length  from  me  and  kicked  moccasined 
heels  against  the  floor  in  the  way  of  light-headed 
lads.  Both  the  air  and  figure  of  the  young  fellow 
vaguely  recalled  somebody,  but  his  back  was 
towards  me.  I  was  measuring  my  comrade,  won- 
dering if  I  might  inquire  where  Hamilton  could 
be  found,  when  the  lad  turned,  and  I  was  face  to 
face  with  the  whiskered  babe  of  Fort  William. 
He  gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

'' Gad  !  "  he  gasped.  *' Do  my  eyes  tell  lies? 
As  I  live,  'tis  your  very  self !    Hang  it,  now,  I 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  165 

thought  you  were   one  of    those    solid    bodies 

wouldn't  do  any  turn-coating " 

**  Turn-coating  !  "  I  repeated  in  amazement. 
*^One  of  those  dray-horse,  old  reliables, 
wouldn't  kick  over  the  traces,  not  if  the  boss 
pumped  his  arms  off  licking  you  !  Hang  it !  I'm 
not  that  sort!  By  gad,  I'm  not!  I've  got  too 
many  oats  !  I  can't  stand  being  jawed  and  gee- 
hawed  by  Dune.  Cameron  ;  so  when  the  old  Gov. 
threatened  to  dock  me  for  being  full,  I  just  kicked 
up  my  heels  and  came.  But  say  !  I  didn't  think 
you  would,  Gillespie  !  " 

''No?  "said  I,  keeping  my  own  counsel  and 
waiting  for  the  Nor'-West  deserter  to  proceed. 

''  What  'd  y'  do  it  for,  Gillespie  ?  You're  as 
sober  as  cold  water  !     Was  it  old  Cameron  ?  " 

"You're  not  talking  straight,  babe,"  said  I. 
*'  You  know  Cameron  doesn't  nag  his  men.  What 
did  you  do  it  for?" 

''  Eh  ?  "  and  the  lad  gave  a  laugh  over  my  chal- 
lenge of  his  veracity.  "  See  here,  old  pal,  I'll  tell 
you  if  you  tell  me." 

''  Go  ahead  with  your  end  of  the  contract  !  " 
"Well,   then,  look   here.     We're   not    in   this 
wilderness  for  glory.     I  knock  down  to  the  high- 
est bidder " 

"  Hudson's  Bay  is  not  the  highest  bidder." 

"  Not  unless  you  happen  to  have  information 

they  want." 

"  Oh!     That's  the  way  of  it,  is  it?  "     So  the 
boy  was  selling  Nor'-Westers'  secrets. 

"You  can  bet  your  last  beaver-skin  it  is  !     Do 


1 66  Lords  of  the  North 

you  think  I  was  old  Cam's  private  secretary  for 
nothin'?  Not  I!  I  say — get  your  wares  as  you 
may  and  sell  'em  to  the  highest  bidder.  So  here 
I  am,  snugly  berthed,  with  nothing  to  do  but 
twiddle  my  thumbs,  all  through  judicious — 
distribution — of — information."  And  the  boy 
gurgled  with  pleasure  over  his  own  cleverness. 
"  And  say,  Gillespie,  I'm  in  regular  clover!  The 
Little  Statue's  here,  all  alone  !  Dad's  gone  to 
Pembina  to  the  buffalo  hunt.  I've  got  ahead  of  all 
you  fellows.  I'm  going  to  introduce  a  French 
chap,  a  friend  of  mine." 

"You'd  much  better  break  his  bones,"  was  my 
advice.  It  needed  no  great  speculation  to  guess 
who  the  Frenchman  was  ;  and  in  the  hands  of  that 
crafty  rake  this  prattling  babe  would  be  as  putty. 

''  Pah  !  You're  jealous,  Gillespie  !  We're  right 
on  the  inside  track  !  " 

"  Lots  of  confidential  talks  with  her,  I  sup- 
pose  f 

"  Talks  !  Pah  !  You  gross  fatty  !  Why,  Gil- 
lespie, what  do  you  know  of  such  things  ? 
Laplante  can  win  a  girl  by  just  looking  at  her — 
French  way,  you  know — he  can  pose  better 
than  a  poem  !  " 

"  Blockhead,"  I  ground  out  between  my  teeth, 
a  feeling  taking  possession  of  me,  which  is  desig- 
nated **  indignation  "  in  the  first  person  but  jeal- 
lousy  in  the  second  and  third.  ''  You  stupid 
simpleton,  that  Laplante  is  a  villain  who  will  turn 
your  addled  pate  and  work  you  as  an  old  wife 
kneads  dough." 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  167 

"What  do  you  know  about  Laplante  ?  "  he 
demanded  hotly. 

"  I  know  he  is  an  accomplished  blackguard,"  I 
answered  quietly,  '*  and  if  you  want  to  spoil  your 
chances  with  the  Little  Statue,  just  prance  round 
in  his  company." 

The  lad  was  too  much  surprised  to  speak. 

**  Where's  Hamilton?"  I  asked. 

"  Find  him  for  yourself,"  said  he,  going  off  in 
a  huff. 

I  edged  cautiously  near  enough  the  wounded 
man  to  see  that  he  was  not  Hamilton.  Near  the 
litter  was  a  group  of  clerks. 

*'  They're  fools,"  one  clerk  was  informing  the 
others.  "  Cameron  sent  word  he'd  have  McDonell 
dead  or  alive.  If  he  doesn't  give  himself  up, 
this  fort'll  go  and  the  whole  settlement  be  mas- 
sacred." 

*'  Been  altogether  too  high-handed  anyway," 
answered  another.  "  I'm  loyal  to  my  company; 
but  Lord  Selkirk  can't  set  up  a  militar}-  despotism 
here.  Been  altogether  better  if  we'd  left  the 
Nor'-Westers  alone." 

"It's  all  the  fault  of  that  cocky  little  martinet," 
declared  a  third. 

"  I  say,"  exclaimed  a  man  joining  the  group, 
"  d'  y'  hear  the  news?  All  the  chiefs  in  there — " 
jerking  his  thumb  towards  a  side  door — "  are 
advising  Captain  McDonell  to  give  himself  up 
and  save  the  fort." 

"  Good  thing.  Who'll  miss  him  ?  He'll  only 
get  a  free  trip  to  Montreal,"  remarked  one  of  the 


i68  Lords  of  the  North 

aggressives  in  this  group.  "  I  tell  you,  men, 
both  companies  have  gone  a  deal  too  far  in  this 
little  slap-back  game  to  be  keen  for  legal  inves- 
tigation.    Why,  at  Souris,  everybody  knows '* 

He  lowered  his  voice  and  I  unconsciously 
moved  from  my  dark  corner  to  hear  the  rest. 

"  Hoo  are  ye,  gillie?"  said  the  burly  Scot  in 
my  ear. 

Turning,  I  found  the  canny  swain  had  followed 
me  on  an  investigating  tour.  Again  I  gave  him 
an  inarticulate  reply  and  lost  myself  among  other 
coteries.  Was  the  man  spying  on  me  ?  I  re- 
flected that  if  "  the  chiefs  " — as  the  Hudson's 
Bay  man  had  called  them — were  in  the  side 
room,  Eric  Hamilton  would  be  among  these  con- 
ferring with  the  governor.  As  I  approached  the 
door,  I  noticed  my  Scotch  friend  had  taken 
some  one  into  his  confidence  and  tw^o  men  w^ere 
now  on  my  tracks.  Lifting  the  latch,  I  gave  a 
gentle,  cautious  push  and  the  hinges  swung  so 
quietly  I  had  slipped  into  the  room  before  those 
inside  or  out  could  prevent  me.  I  found  myself 
in  the  middle  of  a  long  apartment  with  low,  slop- 
ing ceiling,  and  deep  window  recesses.  It  had 
evidently  been  partitioned  off  from  the  main  hall ; 
for  the  wall,  ceiling  and  floor  made  an  exact 
triangle.  At  one  end  of  the  place  was  a  table. 
Round  this  was  a  group  of  men  deeply  engrossed 
in  some  sort  of  conference.  Sitting  on  the  win- 
dow sills  and  lounging  round  the  box  stove  be- 
hind the  table  were  others  of  our  rival's  service. 
I  saw  at  once  it  would  be  difficult  to  have  access 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  169 

to  Hamilton.  He  was  lying  on  a  stretcher  within 
talking  range  of  the  table  and  had  one  arm  in  a 
sling.  Now,  I  hold  it  is  harder  for  the  unprac- 
tised man  to  play  the  spy  with  everything  in  his 
favor,  than  for  the  adept  to  act  that  role  against 
the  impossible.  One  is  without  the  art  that  foils 
detection.  The  other  can  defy  detection.  So  I 
stood  inside  with  my  hand  on  the  door  lest  the 
click  of  the  closing  latch  should  rouse  attention, 
but  had  no  thought  of  prying  into  Hudson's  Bay 

secrets. 

''Your  Honor,"  began  Hamilton  in  a  lifeless 
manner,  which  told  me  his  search  had  been  boot- 
less, and  he  turned  languidly  towards  a  pufTy, 
crusty,  military  gentleman,  whom,  from  the  respect 
shown  him,  I  judged  to  be  Governor  McDonell. 
"  Duncan  Cameron's  warrant  for  the  arrest  is 
perfectly  legal.  If  Your  Honor  should  surrender 
yourself,  you  will  save  Fort  Douglas  for  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company.  Besides,  the  whole  arrest 
will  prove  a  farce.  The  law  in  Lower  Canada 
provides  no  machinery  for  the  trial  of  cases  oc- 
curring  "    Here  Hamilton  came  to  a  blank  and 

unexpected  stop,  for  his  eyes  suddenly  alighted 
on  me  with  a  look  that  forbade  recognition,  and 
fled  furtively  back  to  the  group  at  the  table.  I 
understood  and  kept  silent. 

"  For  the  trial  of  cases  occurring?"  asked  the 

governor  sharply. 

'*  Occurring— here,"  added  Hamilton,  shooting 
out  the  last  word  as  if  his  arm  had  given  him  a 
sudden  twinge.     ''And   so    I   say,  Your   Honor 


1 70  Lords  of  the  North 

will  lose  nothing  by  giving  yourself  up  to  the 
Nor'-Westers,  and  will  save  Fort  Douglas  for  the 
Hudson's  Bay.** 

"  The  doctor  tells  me  it's  a  compound  fracture. 
You'll  find  it  painful,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  said  Gov- 
ernor McDonell  sympathetically,  and  he  turned 
to  the  papers  over  which  the  group  were  confer- 
ring. "  I'm  no  great  hand  in  winning  victories 
by  showing  the  white  flag,"  began  the  gallant 
captain,  "  but  if  a  free  trip  from  here  to  Montreal 
satisfies  those  fools,  I'll  go." 

''Well  said  !  Bravo  !  Your  Honor,"  exclaimed 
a  shaggy  member  of  the  council,  bringing  his  fist 
down  on  the  table  with  a  thud.  "  I  call  that 
diplomacy,  outmanoeuvring  the  enemy !  Your 
Honor  sets  an  example  for  abiding  by  the  law ; 
you  obey  the  warrant.  They  must  follow  the 
example  and  leave  Fort  Douglas  alone." 

"  Besides,  I  can  let  His  Lordship  know  from 
Montreal  just  what  reinforcements  are  needed 
here,"  continued  Captain  McDonell,  with  a  curi- 
ous disregard  for  the  law  which  he  professed 
to  be  obeying,  and  a  faithful  zeal  for  Lord 
Selkirk. 

Hamilton  was  looking  anxiously  at  me  with  an 
expression  of  warning  which  I  could  not  fully 
read.  Then  I  felt,  what  every  one  must  have  felt 
at  some  time,  that  a  third  person  was  watch- 
ing us  both.  Following  Eric's  glance  to  a  dark 
window  recess  directly  opposite  the  door  where 
I  stood,  I  was  horrified  and  riveted  by  the 
beady,  glistening,  insolent  eyes  of  Louis  Laplante, 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  171 

gazing  out  of  the  dusk  with  an  expression  of  rakish 
amusement,  the  amusement  of  a  spider  when  a 
fly  walks  into  its  web.  Taken  unawares  I  have 
ever  been  more  or  less  of  what  Mr.  Jack  Mac- 
Kenzie  was  wont  to  call  "  a  stupid  loon  !  "  On 
discovering  Laplante  I  promptly  sustained  my 
reputation  by  letting  the  door  fly  to  with  a  sharp 
click  that  startled  the  whole  room-full.  Where- 
at Louis  Laplante  gave  a  low,  soft  laugh. 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  man  ?  "  demanded 
Governor  :\IcDoneirs  sharp  voice. 
Jerking  off  my  cap,  I  saluted. 
''My  man.  Your  Honor,"  interjected  Eric 
quietly.  "  Come  here,  Rufus,"  he  commanded, 
motioning  me  to  his  side  with  the  hauteur  of  a 
master  towards  a  servant.  And  Louis  Laplante 
rose  and  tip-toed  after  me  with  a  tigerish  malice 
that  recalled  the  surly  squaw. 

"Oh,  Eric!"  I  cried  out  eagerly.  ''Are  you 
hurt,  and  at  such  a  time?"  Unconsciously  I 
was 'playing  into  Louis'  hands,  for  he  stood  by 
the  stove,  laughing  nonchalantly. 

Thereupon  Eric  ground  out  some  imprecation 
at  my  stupidity. 

'*  There's  been  a  shuffling  of  allegiance,  I  hear," 
he  said  with  a  queer  misleading  look  straight  at 
Laplante.  "  We've  recruits  from  Fort  Gibraltar." 
Eric's  words,  curiously  enough,  banished  tri- 
umph from  Laplante's  face  and  the  Frenchman's 
expression  was  one  of  puzzled  suspicion.  From 
Eric's  impassive  features,  he  could  read  nothing. 
What    Hamilton  was  driving  at,   I  should  pres- 


172  Lords  of  the  North 

ently  learn  ;  but  to  find  out  I  would  no  more 
take  my  eyes  from  Laplante's  than  from  a  tiger 
about  to  spring.  At  once,  to  get  my  attention, 
Hamilton  brought  a  stick  down  on  my  toes  with 
a  sharpness  that  made  me  leap.  By  all  the  codes 
of  nudges  and  kicks  and  such  signaling,  it  is  a 
principle  that  a  blow  at  one  end  of  human  anat- 
omy drives  through  the  density  of  the  other  ex- 
tremity. It  dawned  on  me  that  Eric  was  trying 
to  persuade  Laplante  I  had  deserted  Nor'-West- 
ers  for  the  Hudson's  Bay.  The  ethics  of  his 
attempt  I  do  not  defend.  It  was  after  the  facile 
fashion  of  an  intriguing  era.  A  sharper  weapon 
was  presently  given  us  against  Louis  Laplante  ; 
for  when  I  grasped  Eric's  stick  to  stay  the  raps 
against  my  feet,  I  felt  the  handle  rough  with 
carving. 

"  What  are  these  carvings,  may  I  inquire.  Sir  ?  " 
I  asked,  assuming  the  strangeness,  which  Eric's 
signals  had  directed,  but  never  moving  my  eyes 
from  Laplante.  The  villain,  who  had  befooled 
me  in  the  gorge  and  eluded  me  in  the  forest,  and 
now  tormented  Frances  Sutherland,  winced  under 
my  w^atchfulness. 

'*  The  carvings  !  "  answered  Eric,  annoyed  that 
I  did  not  return  his  plain  signals  and  determined 
to  get  my  eye.  *'  Pray  look  for  yourself !  Where 
are  your  eyes  ?" 

"  I  can't  see  in  this  poor  light,  Sir  ;  but  I  also 
have  a  strangely  carved  thing — a  spear-head.  Now 
if  this  head  has  no  handle  and  this  handle  has 
no  head — they  might  fit,"    I  went  on  watching 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  173 

Laplante,  whose  saucy  assurance  was  deserting 
him. 

"  Spear-head  !  "  exclaimed  Hamilton,  begin- 
ning to  understand  I  too  had  my  design.  *'  Where 
did  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Trying  to  bury  itself  in  my  head."  I  re- 
turned. At  this,  Laplante,  the  knave,  smiled 
graciously  in  my  very  face. 

"  But  it  didn't  succeed  ?  "  asked  Hamilton. 

"  No — it  mistook  me  for  a  tree,  missed  the  mark 
and  went  into  the  tree  ;  just  as  another  friend  of 
mine  mistook  me  for  a  tree,  hit  the  mark  and  ran 
into  me,"  and  I  smiled  back  at  Laplante.  His 
face  clouded.  That  reference  to  the  scene  on  the 
beach,  where  his  Hudson's  Bay  despatches  were 
stolen,  was  too  much  for  his  hot  blood.  "  Here 
it  is,"  I  continued,  pulling  the  spear-head  out  of 
my  plaid.  I  had  brought  it  to  Hamilton,  hoping 
to  identify  our  enemy,  and  we  did.  '*  Please  see 
if  they  fit.  Sir  ?  We  might  identify  our — friends  !  " 
and  I  searched  the  furtive,  guilty  eyes  of  the 
Frenchman. 

"  Dat  frien','*  muttered  Louis  with  a  threaten- 
ing look  at  me,  ''  dat  frien'  of  Mister  Hamilton 
he  spike  good  English  for  Scot'  youth." 

Now  Louis,  as  I  remembered  from  Laval  days, 
never  mixed  his  English  and  French,  except 
when  he  was  in  passion  furious  beyond  all  control. 

"Fit!"  cried  Hamilton.  "They're  a  perfect 
fit,  and  both  carved  the  same,  too." 

"With  what?" 

"  Eagles,"  answered  Eric,  puzzled  at  my  drift, 


174  Lords  of  the  North 

and  Louis  Laplante  wore  the  last  look  of  the 
tiger  before  it  springs. 

"And  eagles,"  said  I,  defying  the  spring,  ''  sig- 
nify that  both  the  spear-head  and  the  spear-handle 
belong  to  the  Sioux  chief  whose  daughter" — 
and  I  lowered  my  voice  to  a  whisper  which  only 
Laplante  and  Hamilton  could  hear — "  is  married 
— to  Le — Grand — Diable  !  " 

"What  !  "  came  Hamilton's  low  cry  of  agony. 
Forgetting  the  fractured  arm,  he  sprang  erect. 

And  Louis  Laplante  staggered  back  in  the  dark 
as  if  we  had  struck  him. 

"  Laplante  !  Laplante  !  Where's  that  French- 
man ?  Bring  him  up  here  !  "  called  Governor  Mc- 
Donell's  fussy,  angry  tones. 

Coming  when  it  did,  this  demand  was  to  Louis 
a  bolt  of  judgment ;  and  he  joined  the  confer- 
ence  with  a  face  as  gray  as  ashes. 

"  Now  about  those  stolen  despatches !  We 
want  to  know  the  truth  !  Were  you  drunk,  or 
were  you  not  ?  Who  has  them  ?  "  Captain  Mc- 
Donell  arraigned  the  Frenchman  with  a  fire  of 
questions  that  would  have  confused  any  other 
culprit  but  Louis. 

"  Eric,"  I  whispered,  taking  advantage  of  the 
respite  offered  by  Louis'  examination.  "  We 
found  Laplante  at  Point e  a  la  Croix.  He  was 
drunk.  He  confessed  Miriam  is  held  by  Diable's 
squaw.  Then  w^e  discovered  someone  was  listen- 
insr  to  the  confession  and  pursued  the  eaves- 
dropper  into  the  bush.  When  we  came  back, 
Laplante  had  been  carried   off.     I  found  one  of 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  175 

my  canoemen  had  your  lost  fowling-piece,  and  it 
was  he  who  had  listened  and  carried  off  the  drunk 
sot  and  tried  to  send  that  spear-head  into  me  at 
the  Sault.  'Twas  Diable,  Eric  !  Father  Holland, 
a  priest  in  our  company,  told  me  of  the  white 
woman  on  Lake  Winnipeg.  Did  you  find 
this — "    indicating  the  spear  handle — *'  there  ?  " 

Eric,  cold,  white  and  trembling,  only  whispered 
an  affirmativ^e. 

"  Was  that  all  ?  " 

"  All,"  he  answered,  a  strange,  fierce  look 
coming  over  his  face,  as  the  full  import  of  my 
news  forced  home  on  him.  "  Was — was — La- 
plante — in  that  ?  "  he  asked,  gripping  my  arm  in 
his  unwounded  hand  with  foreboding  force. 

"Not  that  we  know  of.  Only  Diable.  But 
Louis  is  friendly  with  the  Sioux,  and  if  we  only 
keep  him  in  sight  we  may  track  them." 

"  ril — keep — him — in  sight,"  muttered  Hamil- 
ton In  low,  slow  words. 

"Hush,  Eric!"  I  whispered.  '*  If  we  harm 
him,  he  may  mislead  us.  Let  us  watch  him  and 
track  him  ! " 

"  He's  asking  leave  to  go  trapping  in  the 
Sioux  country.  Can  you  go  as  trader  for  your 
people  ?  To  the  buffalo  hunt  first,  then,  south  ? 
I'll  watch  here,  if  he  stays  ;  you,  there,  if  he  goes, 
and  he  shall  tell  us  all  he  knows  or " 

"  Hush,  man,"  I  urged.    "  Listen  !  " 

"  Where,"  Governor  McDonell  was  thundering 
at  Laplante,  "  where  are  the  parties  that  stole 
those  despatches  ?  " 


176  Lords  of  the  North 

The  question  brought  both  Hamilton  and 
myself  to  the  table.  We  went  forward  where  we 
could  see  Laplante's  face  without  being  seen  by 
his  questioners. 

''  If  I  answer,  Your  Honor,"  began  the  French- 
man, taking  the  captain's  bluster  for  what  it  was 
worth  and  holding  out  doggedly  for  his  own 
rights,  *'  I'll  be  given  leave  to  trap  with  the 
Sioux  ?  " 

*'  Certainly,  man.     Speak  out." 

"  The  parties — that  stole — those  despatches," 
Laplante  was  answering  slowly.  At  this  stage  he 
looked  at  his  interlocutor  as  if  to  question  the 
sincerity  of  the  guarantee  and  he  saw  me  stand- 
ing screwing  the  spear-head  on  the  tell-tale 
handle.  I  patted  the  spear-head,  smiled  blandly 
back,  and  with  my  eyes  dared  him  to  go  on.  He 
paused,  bit  his  lip  and  flushed. 

"  No  lies,  no  roguery,  or  I'll  have  you  at  the 
whipping-post,"  roared  the  governor.  '*  Speak 
up.     Where  are  the  parties  ?  " 

"  Near  about  here,"  stammered  Louis,  *'  and 
you  may  ask  your  new  turn-coat." 

I  was  betrayed  !  Betrayed  and  trapped  ;  but 
he  should  not  go  free !  I  would  have  shouted 
out,  but  Hamilton's  hand  silenced  me. 

"  Here  !  "  exclaimed  the  astounded  governor. 
"  Go  call  that  young  Nor'-Wester  !  If  /le  backs 
up  y'r  story,  /le  was  Cameron's  secretary,  you  can 
go  to  the  buffalo  hunt." 

That  response  upset  Louis*  bearings.  He  had 
expected  the  governor  would  refer  to  me  ;  but 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  i77 

the  command  let  him  out  of  an  awkward  place 
and  he  darted  from  the  room,  as  Hamilton  and  I 
supposed —simpletons  that  we  were  with  that 
rogue  !— to  find  the  young  Nor'-Wester.  This 
turn  of  affairs  gave  me  my  chance.  If  the 
young  Nor'-Wester  and  Laplante  came  together, 
my  disguise  as  Highlander  and  turn-coat  would 
be    stripped    from    me  and  I  should  be  trapped 

indeed. 

''Good-by,  old  boy!"  and  I  gripped  Hamil- 
ton's hand.  "  If  he  stays,  he's  your  game.  When 
he  goes,  he's  mine.  Good  luck  to  us  both! 
You'll  come  south  when  you're  better." 

Then  I  bolted  through  the  main  hall  thinking 
to  elude  the  canny  Scots,  but  saw  both  men  in  the 
stairway  waiting  to  intercept  me.  When  I  ran 
down  a  flight  of  side  stairs,  they  dashed  to  trap 
me  at  the  gate.  At  the  doorway  a  man  lounged 
against  me.  The  lantern  light  fell  on  a  pointed 
beard.  It  was  Laplante,  leaning  against  the  wall 
for  support  and  shaking  with  laughter. 

''  You   again,   old  tombstone  !     Whither  away 
so  fast  ?  "  and  he  made  to  hold   me.     ''  I'm   in  a 
hurry  myself!     My  last  night  under   a  roof,  ha! 
ha!    Wait  till  I  make  my  grand  farewell!     We 
both   did  well,  did  the  grand,  ho!  ho!     But    I 
must  leave  a  fair  demoiselle !  " 
"  Let  go,"  and  I  threw  him  off. 
"  Take  that,  you  ramping  donkey,  you  Anglo- 
Saxon  animal,"  and  he  aimed  a  kick  in  my  direc- 
tion.    Though  I  could  ill  spare  the  time  to  do  it, 
I  turned.     All  the  pent-up  strength  from  the  walk 


12 


178  Lords  of  the  North 

with  Frances  Sutherland  rushed  into  my  clenched 
fist  and  Louis  Laplante  went  down  with  a  thud 
across  the  doorway.  There  was  the  sish-rip  of  a 
knife  being  thrust  through  my  boot,  but  the 
blade  broke  and  I  rushed  past  the  prostrate  form. 

Certain  of  waylaying  me,  the  Scots  were  dodg- 
ing about  the  gate ;  but  by  running  in  the 
shadow  of  the  warehouse  to  the  rear  of  the  court, 
I  gave  both  the  slip.  I  had  no  chance  to  recon- 
noitre, but  dug  my  hunting-knife  into  the  stock- 
ade, hoisted  myself  up  the  wooden  wall,  got  a 
grip  of  the  top  and  threw  myself  over,  escaping 
with  no  greater  loss  than  boots  pulled  off  before 
climbing  the  palisade,  and  the  Highland  cap 
which  stuck  fast  to  a  picket  as  I  alighted  below. 
At  dawn,  bootless  and  hatless,  I  came  in  sight  of 
Fort  Gibraltar  and  Father  Holland,  who  was  scan- 
ning the  prairie  for  my  return,  came  running  to 
greet  me. 

"  The  tip-top  o*  the  mornin'  to  the  renegade  ! 
I  thought  ye'd  been  scalped — and  so  ye  have  been 
— nearly — only  they  mistook  y'r  hat  for  the  wool 
o'  yV  crown.  Boots  gone  too  !  Out  wid  your 
midnight  pranks." 

A  succession  of  welcoming  thuds  accompanied 
the  tirade.  As  breath  returned,  I  gasped  out  a 
brief  account  of  the  night. 

"  And  now,"  he  exclaimed  triumphantly,  "  I 
have  news  to  translate  ye  to  a  sivinth  hiven ! 
Och  !  But  it's  clane  cracked  ye'U  be  when  ye 
hear  it.  Now,  who's  appointed  to  trade  with  the 
buffalo  hunters  but  y'r  very  self?  " 


A  Shuffling  of  Allegiance  179 

It  was  with  difficulty  I  refrained  from  embrac- 
ing the  bearer  of  such  good  tidings. 

''  Be  easy,"  he  commanded.  ''  Ye'll  need  these 
demonstrations,  I'm  thinkin'— huntin'  one  lass 
and  losin'  y'r  heart  to  another." 

We  arranged  he  should  go  to  Fort  Douglas  for 
Frances  Sutherland  and  I  was  to  set  out  later. 
They  were  to  ride  along  the  river-path  south  of 
the  forks  where  I  could  join  them.  I,  myself, 
picked  out  and  paid  for  two  extra  horses,  one  a 
quiet  little  cayuse  with  ambling  action,  the  other, 
a  muscular  broncho.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  Father  Holland  mounted  on  the  latter  set- 
ting out  for  Fort  Douglas,  while  the  Indian  pony 
wearing  an  empty  side-saddle   trotted  along  in 

tow. 

The  information  I  brought    back   from    Fort 
Douglas  delayed  any  more  hostile  demonstrations 
against  the   Hudson's  Bay.     That  very  morning, 
before   I   had   finished    breakfast.   Governor   Mc- 
Donell  rode  over  to  Fort  Gibraltar,  and  on  condi- 
tion that  Fort  Douglas  be   left  unmolested  gave 
himself  up  to  the  Nor'-Westers.     At  noon,  when 
I  was  riding  off  to  the  buffalo  hunt  and  the  Mis- 
souri, I  saw  the  captain,  smiling  and  debonair,  em- 
barking— or  rather  being  embarked— with  North- 
West  brigades,  to  be  sent  on  a  free  trip  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  miles  to  Montreal. 

"  A  safe  voyage  to  ye,"  said  Duncan  Cameron, 
commander  of  Nor'-Westers,  as  the  ex-governor 
of  Red  River  settled  himself  in  a  canoe.  ''A 
safe  voyage  to  ye,  mon  !  '* 


i8o  Lords  of  the  North 

"  And  a  prosperous  return,"  was  the  ironical 
answer  of  the  dauntless  ruler  over  the  Hudson's 
Bay. 

*'Sure  now,  Rufus,"  said  Father  Holland  to  me 
a  year  afterwards,  "  'twas  a  prosperous  return  he 
had  ! " 

Fortunately,  I  had  my  choice  of  scouts,  and, 
by  dangling  the  prospects  of  a  buffalo  hunt  be- 
fore La  Robe  Noire  and  Little  Fellow,  tempted 
them  to  come  with  me. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HOW   A  YOUTH   BECAME  A   KING 

When  the  prima-donna  of  some  vauntful  city 
trills  her  bird-song  above  the  foot-lights,  or  the 
cremona  moans  out  the  sigh  of  night-winds 
through  the  forest,  artificial  townsfolk  applaud. 
Yet  a  nesting-tree,  a  thousand  leagues  from  city 
discords,  gives  forth  better  music  with  deeper 
meaning  and  higher  message — albeit  the  songster 
sings  only  from  love  of  song.  The  fretted  folk 
of  the  great  cities  cannot  understand  the  witch- 
ing fascinations  of  a  wild  life  in  a  wild,  free, 
tameless  land,  where  God's  own  hand  ministers 
to  eye  and  ear.  To  fare  sumptuously,  to  dress 
with  the  faultless  distinction  that  marks  w^ealth, 
to  see  and  above  all  to  be  seen — these  are  the 
empty  ends  for  which  city  men  engage  in  a  mad, 
feverish  pursuit  of  wealth,  trample  one  another 
down  in  a  strife  more  ruthless  than  war  and  gam- 
ble away  gifts  of  mind  and  soul.  These  are  the 
things  for  which  they  barter  all  freedom  but  the 
name.  Where  one  succeeds  a  thousand  fail. 
Those  with  higher  aims  count  themselves  happy, 
indeed,  to  possess  a  few  square  feet  of  canvas, 
that   truly  represents  the  beauty  dear  to   them, 

before    weeds    had    undermined  and  overgrown 

i8i 


1 82  Lords  of  the  North 

and  choked  the  temple  of  the  souL  That  any  one 
should  exchange  gilded  chains  for  freedom  to 
give  manhood  shoulder  swing,  to  be  and  to  do — 
without  infringing  on  the  liberty  of  others  to  be 
and  to  do — is  to  such  folk  a  matter  of  no  small 
wonderment.  For  my  part,  I  know  I  was  counted 
mad  by  old  associates  of  Quebec  w^hen  I  chose 
the  wild  life  of  the  north  country. 

But  each  to  his  taste,  say  I ;  and  all  this  is  only 
the  opinion  of  an  old  trader,  who  loved  the  work 
of  nature  more  than  the  work   of  man.      Other 
voices  may  speak  to  other  men  and  teach  them 
what  the  waterways  and  forests,  the  plains  and 
mountains,  were  teaching  me.     If  '*  ologies  "  and 
"ics,"  the  lore  of    school  and  market,   comfort 
their   souls — be   it   so.     As   for  me,  it  was   only 
when  half  a  continent   away  from   the  jangle  of 
learning  and  gain  that  I  began  to  stir  like  a  living 
thing  and  to  know  that  I  existed.     The  awaken- 
ing began   on    the  westward   journey ;    but  the 
new  life  hardly  gained  full  possession  before  that 
cloudless  summer  day  on  the  prairie,  when  I  fol- 
lowed the  winding  river  trail  south  of  the  forks. 
The   Indian   scouts  were  far  to  the  fore.     Rank 
grass,  high  as  the  saddle-bow,  swished  past  the 
horse's  sides  and  rippled  away  in  an  unbroken 
ocean   of  green  to   the    encircling   horizon.     Of 
course  allowance  must  be  made  for  a  man  in  love. 
Other  men  have  discovered  aworldful  of  beauty, 
when  in  love ;  but  I  do  not   see  what  difference 
two  figures  on  horseback  against  the   southern 
sky-line  could  possibly  make  to  the  shimmer  of 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     183 

purple  above  the  plains,  or  the  fragrance  of 
prairie-roses  lining  the  trail.  It  seems  to  me  the 
lonely  call  of  the  meadow-lark  high  overhead— a 
mote  in  a  sea  of  blue— or  the  drumming  and 
chirruping  of  feathered  creatures  through  the 
green,  could  not  have  sounded  less  musical,  if  I 
had  not  been  a  lover.  But  that,  too,  is  only  an 
opinion ;  for  one  glimpse  of  the  forms  before  me 
brought  peace  into  the  whole  world. 

Father  Holland  evidently  saw  me,  for  he  turned 
and  waved.  The  other  rider  gave  no  sign  of 
recognition.  A  touch  of  the  spur  to  my  horse 
and  I  was  abreast  of  them,  Frances  Sutherland 
curveting  her  cayuse  from  the  trail  to  give  me 
middle  place. 

"  Arrah,  me  hearty,  here  ye  are  at  last !     Och, 
but  ye're  a  skulkin'  wight,"  called  the  priest  as  I 
saluted  both.     ''  What  d'y'  say  for  y'rself,  ye  be- 
lated rascal,  comin'  so  tardy  when  ye're  headed 
for  Gretna  Green— Och  !     Twas  a  laj^sus  lingnce  ! 
.'Tis  Pembina — not  Gretna  Green — that  I  mean/* 
Had  it  been  half  a  century  later,  when  a  little 
place  called  Gretna  sprang  up  on  this  very  trail, 
Frances  Sutherland  and  I  need  not  have  flinched 
at  this  reference  to  an  old-world  Mecca  for  run- 
away lovers=     But  there  was  no  Gretna  on  the 
Pembina    trail    in    those    days   and    the    Little 
Statue's  cheeks  were  suddenly  tinged  deep  red, 
while  I  completely  lost  my  tongue. 

"  Not  a  word  for  y'rself  ?  "  continued  the  priest, 
giving  me  full  benefit  of  the  mischievous  spirit 
working  in  him.     ''  He,  who  bearded  the  foe  in 


184  Lords  of  the  North 

his  den,  now  meeker  than  a  lambkin,  mild  as  a 
turtle-dove,  timid  as  a  pigeon,  pensive  as  a  whim- 
pering robin  that's  lost  his  mate " 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  law  against  the  jokes  of 
the  clergy.  Sir,"  I  interrupted  tartly.  ''  The  jokes 
aren't  funny  and  one  daren't  hit  back." 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  law  against  lovers,  me 
hearty,"  laughed  he.  *'  They're  always  funny, 
and  they  can't  stand  a  crack." 

''  Against  all  men,"  ventured  Frances  Suther- 
land with  that  instinctive,  womanly  tact,  which 
whips  recalcitrant  talkers  into  line  like  a  deft 
driver  reining  up  kicking  colts.  "  All  men  should 
be  warranted  safe,  not  to  go  off." 

"  Unless  there's  a  fair  target,"  and  the  priest 
looked  us  over  significantly  and  laughed.  If  he 
felt  a  gentle  pull  on  the  rein,  he  yielded  not  a  jot. 
Unluckily  there  are  no  curb-bits  for  hard-mouthed 
talkers. 

"  Rufus,  I  don't  see  that  ye  wear  a  ticket  war- 
ranting ye'U  not  go  off,"  he  added  merrily.  Red 
became  redder  on  two  faces,  and  hot,  hotter  with 
at  least  one  temper. 

**  And  womankind  ?  "  I  managed  to  blurt  out, 
trying  to  second  her  efforts  against  our  tor- 
mentor. *'  What  guarantee  against  dangers  from 
them  ?  The  pulpit  silenced — though  that's  a  big 
contract — mankind  labeled,  what  for  women  ?  " 

"  Libeled,"  she  retorted.  **  Men  say  we  don't 
hit  straight  enough  to  be  dangerous." 

*'The  very  reason  ye  are  dangerous,"  the  priest 
broke  in.     **  Ye  aim  at  a  head  and  hit  a  heart ! 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     185 

Then  away  ye  go  to  Gretna  Green — och !     It's 

Pembina,  I  mean  !     Marry,  my  children "  and 

he  paused. 

"  Marry  ! — What  ?  "  I  shouted.  Thereupon 
Frances  Sutherland  broke  into  peals  of  laughter, 
in  which  I  could  see  no  reason,  and  Father  Hol- 
land winked. 

''  What's  wrong  with  ye  ?  "  asked  the  priest 
solemnly.  "  Faith,  'tis  no  advice  Fm  giving  ;  but 
as  I  was  remarking,  marry,  my  children,  Fd  sooner 
stand  before  a  man  not  warranted  safe  than  a 
woman,  who  might  take  to  shying  pretty  charms 
at  my  head  !  Faith,  me  lambs,  ye'U  learn  that  I 
speak  true." 

As  Mr.  Jack  MacKenzie  used  to  put  it  in  his 
peppery  reproof,  I  always  did  have  a  knack  of 
tumbling  head  first  the  instant  an  opportunity 
offered.  This  time  I  had  gone  in  heels  and  all, 
and  now  came  up  in  as  fine  a  confusion  as  any 
bashful  bumpkin  ever  displayed  before  his  lady. 
Frances  Sutherland  had  regained  her  composure 
and  came  to  my  rescue  with  another  attempt  to 
take  the  lead  from  the  loquacious  churchman. 

"  Fm  so  grateful  to  you  for  arranging  this  trip," 
and  she  turned  directly  tome. 

''  Hm-m,"  blurted  Father  Holland  with  unutter- 
able merriment,  before  I  could  get  a  word  in, 
"he's  grateful  to  himself  for  that  same  thing. 
Faith !  He's  been  thankin'  the  stars,  especially 
Venus,  ever  since  he  got  marching  orders  !  " 

"  How  did  you  reach  Fort  Gibraltar?"  she  per- 
sisted. 


i86  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Sans  boots  and  cap,"  I  promptly  replied,  de- 
termined to  be  ahead  of  the  interloper, 

"  Sans  heart,  too,"  and  the  priest  flicked  my 
broncho  with  his  whip  and  knocked  the  ready- 
made  speech,  with  which  I  had  hoped  to  silence 
him,  clean  out  of  my  head.  Frances  Sutherland 
took  to  examining  remote  objects  on  the  horizon. 
Hers  was  a  nature  not  to  be  beaten. 

**  Let  us  ride  faster,"  she  suddenly  proposed 
with  a  glance  that  boded  roguery  for  the  priest's 
portly  form.  She  was  off  like  a  shaft  from  a  bow- 
string, causing  a  stampede  of  our  horses.  That 
was  effective.  A  hard  gallop  against  a  stiff  prairie 
wind  will  stop  a  stout  man's  eloquence. 

"  Ho  youngsters ! "  exclaimed  the  priest,  coming 
abreast  of  us  as  we  reined  up  behind  the  scouts. 
"  If  ye  set  me  that  gait — whew — I'll  not  be  left 
for  Gretna  Green — Faith — it*s  Pembina,  I  mean," 
and  he  puffed  like  a  cargo  boat  doing  itself  proud 
among  the  great  liners. 

He  was  breathless,  therefore  safe.  Frances 
Sutherland  was  not  disposed  to  break  the  accu- 
mulating silence,  and  I,  for  the  life  of  me,  could 
not  think  of  a  single  remark  appropriate  for  a 
party  of  three.  The  ordinary  commonplaces,  that 
stop-gap  conversation,  refused  to  come  forth.  I 
rehearsed  a  multitude  of  impossible  speeches; 
but  they  stuck  behind  sealed  lips. 

"  Silence  is  getting  heavy,  Rufus,"  he  observed, 
enjoying  our  embarrassment. 

Thus  we  jogged  forward  for  a  mile  or  more. 

"Troth,    me    pet    lambs,"    he    remarked,    as 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     187 

breath  returned,  '*  ye'll  both  bleat  better  without 
me  I" 

Forthwith,  away  he  rode  fifty  yards  ahead, 
keeping  that  distance  beyond  us  for  the  rest  of 
the  day  and  only  calling  over  his  shoulder  occa- 
sionally. 

"  Och  !  But  y'r  bronchos  are  slow  !  Don't  be 
telling  me  y'r  bronchos  are  not  slow  !  Arrah,  me 
hearties,  be  making  good  use  o'  the  honeymoon, 
— I  mean  afternoon,  not  honeymoon.  ]\Iarr}',  me 
children,  but  y'r  bronchos  are  bog-spavined  and 
spring-halted.  Jiggle-joggle  faster,  with  ye,  ye 
rascals  I  Faith,  I  see  ye  out  o'  the  tail  o'  my  eye. 
Those  bronchos  are  nosing  a  bit  too  close,  I'm 
thinkin'  !  I'm  going  to  turn  I  I  warn  ye  fair — 
ready!  One — shy-off  there  I  Two — have  a  care! 
Three — I'm  coming  !     Four — prepare  !  " 

And  he  would  glance  back  with  shouts  of  droll 
laughter.  "  Get  epp  !  We  mustn't  disturb  them  ! 
Get  epp !  "  This  to  his  own  horse  and  off  he 
would  go,  humming  some  ditty  to  the  lazy  hobble 
of  his  nag. 

**  Old  angel !  "  said  I,  under  my  breath,  and  I 
fell  to  wondering  what  earthly  reason  any  man 
had  for  becoming  a  priest. 

He  was  right.  Talk  no  longer  lagged,  what- 
ever our  bronchos  did ;  but,  indeed,  all  we  said 
was  better  heard  by  two  than  three.  Why  that 
was,  I  cannot  tell,  for  like  beads  of  a  roscLry  our 
words  were  strung  together  on  things  common- 
place enough  ;  and  fond  hearts,  as  well  as  mystics, 
have  a  key  to  unlock  a  world  of  meaning  from 


1 88  Lords  of  the  North 

meaningless  words.  Tufts  of  poplars,  wood 
islands  on  the  prairie,  skulking  coyotes,  that 
prowled  to  the  top  of  some  earth  mound  and  ut- 
tered their  weird  cries,  mud-colored  badgers,  hulk- 
ing clumsily  away  to  their  treacherous  holes,  go- 
phers, sly  fellows,  propped  on  midget  tails  point- 
ing fore-paws  at  us — these  and  other  common 
things  stole  the  hours  away.  The  sun,  dipping 
close  to  the  sky-line,  shone  distorted  through  the 
warm  haze  like  a  huge  blood  shield.  Far  ahead 
our  scouts  were  pitching  tents  on  ground  well 
back  from  the  river  to  avoid  the  mosquitoes 
swarming  above  the  water.  It  was  time  to  en- 
camp for  the  night. 

Those  long  June  nights  in  the  far  north  with 
fire  glowing  in  the  track  of  a  vanished  sun  and 
stillness  brooding  over  infinite  space — have  a 
glory,  that  is  peculiarly  their  own.  Only  a  sort 
of  half-darkness  lies  between  the  lingering  sun- 
set and  the  early  sun-dawn.  At  nine  o'clock  the 
sun-rim  is  still  above  the  western  prairie.  At  ten, 
one  may  read  by  daylight,  and,  if  the  sky  is  clear, 
forget  for  another  hour  that  night  has  begun. 
After  supper.  Father  Holland  sat  at  a  distance  from 
the  tents  with  his  back  carefully  turned  towards 
us,  a  precaution  on  his  part  for  which  I  was  not 
ungrateful.  Frances  Sutherland  was  throned  on 
the  boxes  of  our  quondam  table,  and  I  was  re- 
clining against  saddle-blankets  at  her  feet. 

"  Oh  !  To  be  so  forever,"  she  exclaimed,  gazing 
at  the  globe  of  solid  gold  against  the  opal-green 
sky.     '*  To  have  the  light  always  clear,  just  ahead, 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     189 

nothing  between  us  and  the  light,  peace  all  about, 
no  care,  no  weariness,  just  quiet  and  beauty  like 
this  forever." 

''Like  this  forever!  I  ask  nothing  better," 
said  I  with  great  heartiness  ;  but  neither  her  eyes 
nor  her  thoughts  were  for  me.  Would  the  eyes 
looking  so  intently  at  the  sinking  sun,  I  won- 
dered, condescend  to  look  at  a  spot  against  the 
sun.  In  desperation  I  meditated  standing  up. 
'Tis  all  very  well  to  talk  of  storming  the  citadel 
of  a  closed  heart,  but  unless  telepathic  imple- 
ments of  war  are  perfected  to  the  same  extent  as 
modern  armaments,  permitting  attack  at  long 
range,  one  must  first  get  within  shooting  distance. 
Apparently  I  was  so  far  outside  the  defences, 
even  my  design  was  unknown. 

''  I  think,"  she  began  in  low,  hesitating  words, 
so  clear  and  thrilling,  they  set  my  heart  beating 
wildly  with  a  vague  expectation,  ''  I  think  heaven 
must  be  very,  very  near  on  nights  like  this,  don't 
— you — Ruf  us  ?  " 

I  wasn't  thinking  of  heaven  at  all,  at  least,  not 
the  heaven  she  had  in  mind  ;  but  if  there  is  one 
thing  to  make  a  man  swear  white  is  black  and 
black  white  and  to  bring  him  to  instantaneous 
agreement  with  any  statement  whatsoever,  it  is 
to  hear  his  Christian  name  so  spoken  for  the  first 
time.  I  sat  up  in  an  electrified  way  that  brought 
the  fringe    of  lashes  down  to   hide    those   gray 

eyes. 

''Very  near?  Well  rather!  I've  been  in 
heaven  all    day,"  I  vowed.     "  I've  been   getting 


190  Lords  of  the  North 

glimpses  of  paradise  all  the  way  from  Fort  Wil- 
liam  " 

''  Don't,"  she  interrupted  with  a  flash  of  the  im- 
perious nature,  which  I  knew.  "  Please  don't, 
Mr.  Gillespie." 

"  Please  don't  Mister  Gillespie  me,"  said  I, 
piqued  by  a  return  to  the  formal.  **  If  you  picked 
up  Rufus  by  mistake  from  the  priest,  he  sets  a 
good  example.     Don't  drop  a  good  habit !  " 

That  was  my  first  step  inside  the  outworks. 

"Rufus,"  she  answered  so  gently  I  felt  she 
might  disarm  and  slay  me  if  she  would,  *'  Rufus 
Gillespie  " —  that  was  a  return  of  the  old  spirit,  a 
compromise  between  her  will  and  mine — '*  please 
don't  begin  saying  that  sort  of  thing — there's  a 
whole  day  before  us " 

"  And  you  think  I  can't  keep  it  up  ?  " 

''  You  haven't  given  any  sign  of  failing.  You 
know,  Rufus,"  she  added  consolingly,  *'  you  really 
must  not  say  those  things,  or  something  will  be 
hurt !     You'll  make  me  hurt  it." 

"  Something  is  hurt  and  needs  mending.  Miss 
Sutherland " 

"  Don't  Miss  Sutherland  me,"  she  broke  in 
with  a  laugh,  ''  call  me  Frances  ;  and  if  something 
is  hurt  and  needs  mending,  I'm  not  a  tinker, 
though  my  father  and  the  priest — yes  and  you, 
too — sometimes  think  so.  But  sisters  do  mend- 
ing, don't  they  ?"  and  she  laughed  my  earnest- 
ness off  as  one  would  puff  out  a  candle. 

<<  No — no — no — not  sisters — not  that,"  I  pro- 
tested.    "  I  have   no    sisters.   Little   Statue.     I 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     191 

wouldn't  know  how  to  act  with  a  sister,  unless  she 
were  somebody  else's  sister,  you  know.  I  can't 
stand  the  sisterly  business,  Frances " 

*'  Have  you  suffered  much  from  the  sisterly?" 
she  asked  with  a  merry  twinkle. 

"No,"  I  hastened  to  explain,  "I  don't  know 
how  to  play  the  sisterly  touch-and-go  at  all,  but 
the  men  tell  me  it  doesn't  work — dead  failure, 
always  ends  the  same.  Sister  proposes,  or  is  pro- 
posed to " 

**  Oh  !  "  cried  the  Little  Statue  with  the  faintest 
note  of  alarm,  and  she  moved  back  from  me  on 
the  boxes.  "  I  think  we'd  better  play  at  being 
very  matter-of-fact  friends  for  the  rest  of  the  trip." 

"  No,  thank  you.  Miss  Sutherland — Frances,  I 
mean,"  said  I.  "  I'm  not  the  fool  to  pretend 
that " 

"Then  pretend  anything  you  like,"  and  there 
was  a  sudden  coldness  in  her  voice,  which  showed 
me  she  regarded  my  refusal  and  the  slip  in  her 
name  as  a  rebuff.  "  Pretend  anything  you  like, 
only  don't  say  things." 

That  was  a  throwing  down  of  armor  which  I 
had  not  expected. 

"  Then  pretend  that  a  pilgrim  was  lost  in  the 
dark,  lost  where  men's  souls  slip  down  steep  places 
to  hell,  and  that  one  as  radiant  as  an  angel  from 
heaven  shone  through  the  blackness  and  guided 
him  back  to  safe  ground,"  I  cried,  taking  quick  ad- 
vantage of  my  fair  antagonist's  sudden  abandon 
and  casting  aside  all  banter. 

**  Children  !  children  !  "  cried  the  priest.    "  Chil- 


192  Lords  of  the  North 

dren  !  Sun's  down  !  Time  to  go  to  your  trun- 
dles, my  babes !  " 

''Yes,  yes,"  I  shouted.  "  Wait  till  I  hear  the 
rest  of  this  story." 

At  my  words  she  had  started  up  with  a  little 
gasp  of  fright.  A  look  of  awe  came  into  her  gray 
eyes,  which  I  have  seen  on  the  faces  of  those  who 
find  themselves  for  the  first  time  beside  the  abyss 
of  a  precipice.  And  I  have  climbed  many  lofty 
peaks,  but  never  one  without  passing  these  places 
with  the  fearful  possibilities  of  destruction.  Al- 
ways the  novice  has  looked  with  the  same  un- 
speakable fear  into  the  yawning  depths,  with  the 
same  unspeakable  yearning  towards  the  jewel- 
crowned  heights  beyond.  This,  or  something  of 
this,  was  in  the  startled  attitude  of  the  trembling 
figure,  whose  eyes  met  mine  without  flinching  or 
favor. 

"  Or  pretend  that  a  traveler  had  lost  his  com- 
pass, and  though  he  was  without  merit,  God  gave 
him  a  star." 

"  Is  it  a  pretty  story,  Rufus  ?  "  called  the 
priest. 

'*  Very,"  I  cried  out  impatiently.  "  Don't  in- 
terrupt." 

"  Or  pretend  that  a  poor  fool  with  no  merit  but 
his  love  of  purity  and  truth  and  honor  lost  his 
way  to  paradise,  and  God  gave  him  an  angel  for 
a  guide." 

'*  Is  it  a  long  story,  Rufus  ?"  called  the  priest. 

"  It's  to  be  continued,"  I  shouted,  leaping  to 
my  feet  and  approaching  her. 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     193 

*'  And  pretend  that  the  pilgrim  and  the  trav- 
eler and  the  fool,  asked  no  other  privilege  but  to 
give  each  his  heart's  love,  his  life's  devotion  to  her 
who  had  come  between  him  and  the  dark- 
ness  " 

"Rufus!  "  roared  the  priest.  ''I  declare  I'll 
take  a  stick  to  you.  Come  away!  D'  y'  hear? 
She's  tired." 

*'  Good-night,"  she  answered,  in  a  broken  whis- 
per, so  cold  it  stabbed  me  like  steel ;  and  she  put 
out  her  hand  in  the  mechanical  way  of  the  well- 
bred  woman  in  every  land. 

^'  Is  that  all  ?  "  I  asked,  holding  the  hand  as  if 
it  had  been  a  galvanic  battery,  though  the  priest 
was  coming  straight  towards  us. 

"  All  ?  "  she  returned,  the  lashes  falling  over  the 
misty,  gray  eyes.  *' Ah,  Rufus  !  Are  we  playing 
jest  is  earnest,  or  earnest  is  jest?"  and  she  turned 
quickly  and  went  to  her  tent. 

How  long  I  stood  in  reverie,  I  do  not  know. 
The  priest's  broad  hand  presently  came  down  on 
my  shoulder  with  a  savage  thud. 

"  Ye  blunder-busticus,  ye,  what  have  ye  been 
doing  ?  "  he  asked.  ''  The  Little  Statue  was  cry- 
ing when  she  went  to  her  tent." 

"  Crying?  " 

"  Yes,  ye  idiot.     I'll  stay  by  her  to-morrov/." 

And  he  did.  Nor  could  he  have  contrived 
severer  punishment  for  the  unfortunate  effect  of 
my  words.  Fool,  that  I  was !  I  should  keep 
myself  in  hand  henceforth.  How  many  men  have 
made  that  vow  regarding  the  woman  they  love? 
13 


194  Lords  of  the  North 

Those  that  have  kept  it,  I  trow,  could  be  counted 
easily  enough.  But  I  had  no  opportunity  to 
break  my  vow  ;  for  the  priest  rode  with  Frances 
Sutherland  the  whole  of  the  second  day,  and  not 
once  did  he  let  loose  his  scorpion  wit.  She  had 
breakfast  alone  in  her  tent  next  morning,  the 
priest  carrying  tea  and  toast  to  her ;  and  when 
she  came  out,  she  leaped  to  her  saddle  so  quickly 
I  lost  the  expected  favor  of  placing  that  imperious 
foot  in  the  stirrup.  We  set  out  three  abreast,  and 
I  had  no  courage  to  read  my  fate  from  the  cold, 
marble  face.  The  ground  became  rougher.  We 
were  forced  to  follow  long  detours  round  sloughs, 
and  I  gladly  fell  to  the  rear  where  I  was  unob- 
served. Clumps  of  willows  alone  broke  the  end- 
less dip  of  the  plain.  Glassy  creeks  glittered 
silver  through  the  green,  and  ever  the  trail,  like 
a  narrow  ribbon  of  many  loops,  fled  before  us  to 
the  dim  sky-line. 

When  we  halted  for  our  nooning,  Frances 
Sutherland  had  slipped  from  her  saddle  and  gone 
off  picking  prairie  roses  before  either  the  priest 
or  I  noticed  her  absence. 

"  If  you  go  off,  you  nuisance,  you,"  said  the 
priest  rubbing  his  bald  pate,  and  gazing  after  her 
in  a  puzzled  way,  when  we  had  the  meal  ready, 
*'  I  think  she'll  come  back  and  eat." 

I  promptly  took  myself  off  and  had  the  glum 
pleasure  of  hearing  her  chat  in  high  spirits  over 
the  dinner  table  of  packing  boxes ;  but  she  was 
on  her  cayuse  and  off  with  the  scouts  long  before 
Father  Holland  and  I  had  mounted. 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     195 

**  Rufus,"  said  the  priest  with  a  comical,  quiz- 
zical look,  as  we  set  off  together.  **  Rufus,  I 
think  y'r  a  fool." 

"  I've  thought  that  several  hundred  thousand 
times  myself,  this  morning." 

"  Have  ye  as  much  as  got  a  glint  of  her  eye  to- 
day?" 

''  No.  I  can't  compete  against  the  Church  with 
women.  Any  fool  knows  that,  even  as  big  a  fool 
as  I." 

**  Tush,  youngster !  Don't  take  to  licking  your 
raw  tongue  up  and  down  the  cynic's  saw  edge ! 
Put  a  spur  to  your  broncho  there  and  ride  ahead 
with  her." 

**  Having  offended  a  goddess,  I  don't  wish  to 
be  struck  dead  by  inviting  her  wrath." 

"  Pah !  I've  no  patience  with  y'r  ramrod  in- 
dependence !  Bend  a  stiff  neck,  or  you'll  break  a 
sore  heart !  Ride  ahead,  I  tell  you,  you  young 
mule  !  "  and  he  brought  a  smart  flick  across  my 
broncho. 

''  Father  Holland,"  I  made  answer  with  the 
dignity  of  a  bishop  and  my  nose  mighty  high  in 
the  air,  "will  you  permit  me  to  suggest  that 
people  know  their  own  affairs  best " 

"Tush,  no!  I'll  permit  you  to  do  nothing  of 
the  kind,"  said  he,  driving  a  fly  from  his  horse's 
ear.  "  Don't  you  know,  you  young  idiot,  that 
between  a  man  surrendering  his  love,  and  a 
woman  surrendering  hers,  there's  difference 
enough  to  account  for  tears?  A  man  gives  his 
and  gets  it  back  with  compound  interest  in  coin 


196  Lords  of  the  North 

that's   pure   gold   compared   to   his   copper.     A 

woman  gives  hers  and  gets  back "  the  priest 

stopped. 

"  What  ?  "  I  asked,  interest  getting  the  better 
of  wounded  pride. 

"  Not  much  that's  worth  having  from  idiots  like 
you,"  said  he  ;  by  which  the  priest  proved  he 
could  deal  honestly  by  a  friend,  without  any 
mincing  palliatives. 

His  answer  set  me  thinking  for  the  best  part  of 
the  afternoon  ;  and  I  warrant  if  any  man  sets  out 
with  the  priest's  premises  and  thinks  hard  for  an 
afternoon  he  will  come  to  the  same  conclusion 
that  I  did. 

"  Let's  both  poke  along  a  little  faster,"  said  I, 
after  long  silence. 

"  Oho  !  With  all  my  heart !  "  And  we  caught 
up  with  Frances  Sutherland  and  for  the  first  time 
that  day  I  dared  to  look  at  her  face.  If  there 
were  tear  marks  about  the  wondrous  eyes,  they 
were  the  marks  of  the  shower  after  a  sun-burst, 
the  laughing  gladness  of  life  in  golden  light,  the 
joyous  calm  of  washed  air  when  a  storm  has  cleared 
away  turbulence.  Why  did  she  evade  me  and 
turn  altogether  to  the  priest  at  her  right  ? 
Had  I  been  of  an  analytical  turn  of  mind,  I 
might,  perhaps,  have  made  a  very  careful  study 
of  an  emotion  commonly  called  jealousy  ;  but, 
when  one's  heart  beats  fast,  one's  thoughts  throng 
too  swiftly  for  introspection.  Was  I  a  part  of 
the  new  happiness  ?  I  did  not  understand  human 
nature  then  as  I  understand  it  now,  else  would  I 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     197 

have  known  that  fair  eyes  turn  away  to  hide  what 
they  dare  not  reveal.  I  prided  myself  that  I  was 
now  well  in  hand.  I  should  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity to  undo  my  folly  of  the  night  before. 

It  was  after  supper.  Father  Holland  had  gone 
to  his  tent.  Frances  Sutherland  was  arranging  a 
bunch  of  flowers  in  her  lap  ;  and  I  took  my  place 
directly  behind  her  lest  my  face  should  tell  truth 
while  my  tongue  uttered  lies. 

"  Speaking  of  stars,  you  know  Miss  Sutherland," 
I  began,  remembering  that  I  had  said  something 
about  stars  that  must  be  unsaid. 

"  Don't  call  me  J/iss  Sutherland,  Rufus,"  she 
said,  and  that  gentle  answer  knocked  my  grand 
resolution  clean  to  the  four  winds. 

''  I  beg  your  pardon,  Frances "     Chaos  and 

I  were  one.     Whatever  was  it  I  was  to  say  about 
stars  ? 

"  Well?  "     There  was  a  waiting  in  the  voice. 

"  Yes — you  know — Frances."  I  tried  to  call 
up  something  coherent ;  but  somehow  the  thump- 
ing of  my  heart  set  up  a  rattling  in  my  head. 

"  No — Rufus.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't 
know.     You  were  going  to  tell  me  something." 

"  Bother  my  stupidity,  Miss — Miss — Frances, 
but  the  mastiff's  forgotten  what  it  was  going  to 
bow-wow  about  !  " 

*'  Not  the  moon  this  time,"  she  laughed. 
*'  Speaking  of  stars,"  and  she  gave  me  back  my 
own  words. 

**  Oh !     Yes !     Speaking    of    stars !     Do    you 


198  Lords  of  the  North 

know  I  think  a  lot  of  the  men  coming  up 
from  Fort  William  got  to  regarding  the  star 
above  the  leading  canoe  as  their  own  particular 
star." 

I  thought  that  speech  a  masterpiece.  It  would 
convince  her  she  was  the  star  of  all  the  men, 
not  mine  particularly.  That  was  true  enough 
to  appease  conscience,  a  half-truth  like  Louis 
Laplante's  words.  So  I  would  rob  my  foolish 
avowal  of  its  personal  element.  A  flush  suffused 
the  snowy  white  below  her  hair. 

"  Oh  !  I  didn't  notice  any  particular  star  above 
the  leading  canoe.  There  were  so  very,  very 
many  splendid  stars,  I  used  to  watch  them  half 
the  night !  " 

That  answer  threw  me  as  far  down  as  her 
manner  had  elated  me. 

"  Well !  What  of  the  stars  ?  "  asked  the  silvery 
voice. 

I  was  dumb.  She  flung  the  flowers  aside  as 
though  she  would  leave;  but  Father  Holland 
suddenly  emerged  from  the  tent  fanning  himself 
with  his  hat. 

"  Babes  !"  said  he.  "You're  a  pair  of  fools! 
Oh  !  To  be  young  and  throw  our  opportunities 
helter-skelter  like  flowers  of  which  we're  tired," 
and  he  looked  at  the  upset  lapful.  "  Children  ! 
children  !  Carpe  Diem  !  Carpe  Diem  !  Pluck 
the  flowers  ;  for  the  days  are  swifter  than  arrows," 
and  he  walked  away  from  us  engrossed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  muttering  over  and  over  the  advice  of 
the  Latin  poet,  "  Carpe  Diem  !     Carpe  Diem  I  " 


How  a  Youth  Became  a  King     199 

"What  is  Carpe  Diejn  ?  "  asked  Frances  Suth- 
erland, gazing  after  the  priest  in  sheer  wonder. 

"  I  wasn't  strong  on  classics  at  Laval  and  I 
haven't  my  crib." 

"  Go  on  !  "  she  commanded.  "  You're  only 
apologizing  for  my  ignorance.  You  know  very 
well." 

"  It  means  just  what  he  says — as  if  each  day 
were  a  flower,  you  know,  had  its  joys  to  be 
plucked,  that  can  never  come  again." 

*'  Flowers  !  Oh  !  I  know  !  The  kind  you  all 
picked  for  me  coming  up  from  Fort  William. 
And  do  you  know,  Rufus,  I  never  could  thank  you 
all  ?     Were  those  Carpe  Diem  flowers  ?  " 

"  No — not  exactly  the  kind  Father  Holland 
means  we  should  pick." 

"What  then?"  and  she  turned  suddenly  to 
find  her  face  not  a  hand's  length  from  mine. 

"  This  kind,"  I  whispered,  bending  in  terrified 
joy  over  her  shoulder ;  and  I  plucked  a  blossom 
straight  from  her  lips  and  another  and  yet  another, 
till  there  came  into  the  deep,  gray  eyes  what  I 
cannot  transcribe,  but  what  sent  me  away  the  king 
of  all  men — for  had  I  not  found  my  Queen  ? 

And  that  was  the  way  I  carried  out  my  grand 
resolution  and  kept  myself  in  hand. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   BUFFALO    HUNT 

I  QUESTION  if  Norse  heroes  of  the  sea  could 
boast  more  thrilling  adventure  than  the  wild  buf- 
falo hunts  of  American  plain-rangers.     A  caval- 
cade of  six  hundred  men  mounted  on  mettlesome 
horses  eager  for  the  furious  dash  through  a  forest 
of  tossing  buffalo-horns  v/as  quite  as  imposing  as 
any   clash   between   warring    Vikings.     Squaws, 
children  and  a  horde  of   ragged   camp-followers 
straggled  in  long  lines  far  to  the  hunters'  rear. 
Altogether,  the  host   behind  the  flag   numbered 
not  less  than  two  thousand  souls.     Like  any  mar- 
tial column,  our  squad  had  captain,  color-bearer 
and  chaplain.     Luckily,  all  three  were  known  to 
me,  as    I    discovered  when  I    reached   Pembina. 
The  truce,  patched  up  between    Hudson's    Bay 
and  Nor'-Westers  after  Governor  McDonell's  sur- 
render, left  Cuthbert  Grant   free  to  join  the  buf- 
falo hunt.     Pursuing  big  game  across  the  prairie 
was  more  to  his  taste  than  leading  the  half-breeds 
during  peace.     The  warden    of  the   plains  came 
hot-foot  after  us,  and  was  promptly  elected  cap- 
tain of  the  chase.     Father  Holland  was  with   us 
too.     Our  course  lay  directly  on  his  way  to   the 
Missouri  and  a  jolly  chaplain  he  made.  In  Grant's 

200 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  201 

company  came  Pierre,  the  rhymster,  bubbling 
over  with  jingling  minstrelsy,  that  was  the  de- 
light of  every  half-breed  camp  on  the  plains. 
Bareheaded,  with  a  red  handkerchief  banding 
back  his  lank  hair,  and  clad  in  fringed  buckskin 
from  the  bright  neck-cloth  to  the  beaded  mocca- 
sins, he  was  as  wild  a  figure  as  any  one  of  the 
savage  rabble.  Yet  this  was  the  poet  of  the 
plain-rangers,  who  caught  the  song  of  bird,  the 
burr  of  cataract  through  the  rocks,  the  throb  of 
stampeding  buffalo,  the  moan  of  the  wind  across 
the  prairie,  and  tuned  his  rude  minstrelsy  to  wild 
nature's  fugitive  music.  Viking  heroes,  I  know, 
chanted  their  deeds  in  songs  that  have  come 
down  to  us ;  but  with  the  exception  of  the 
Eskimo,  descendants  of  North  American  races 
have  never  been  credited  with  a  taste  for  har- 
mony. Once  I  asked  Pierre  how  he  acquired  his 
art  of  verse-making.  With  a  laugh  of  scorn,  he 
demanded  if  the  wind  and  the  waterfalls  and 
the  birds  learned  music  from  beardless  boys  and 
draeele-coated  dominies  with  armfuls  of  books. 
However,  it  may  have  been  with  his  Pegasus,  his 
mount  for  the  hunt  was  no  laggard.  He  rode  a 
knob-jointed,  muscular  brute,  that  carried  him  like 
poetic  inspiration  wherever  it  pleased.  Though 
Pierre's  right  hand  was  busied  upholding  the 
hunters'  flag,  and  he  had  but  one  arm  to  bow- 
string the  broncho's  arching  neck,  the  half-breed 
poet  kept  his  seat  with  the  easy  grace  of  the 
plainsman  born  and  bred  in  the  saddle. 

"  Faith,  man,  'tis  the  fate  of  genius  to  ride  a 


202  Lords  of  the  North 

fractious  steed,"  said  Father  Holland,  when  the 
bronchos  of  priest  and  poet  had  come  into  violent 
collision  with  angry  squeals  for  the  third  time  in 
ten  minutes. 

"And  what  are  the  capers  of  this,  my  beast, 
compared  to  the  antics  of  fate.  Sir  Priest?  "  asked 
Pierre  with  grave  dignity. 

The  wind  caught  his  long  hair  and  blew  it 
about  his  face  till  he  became  an  equestrian  per- 
sonification of  the  frenzied  muse.  I  had  become 
acquainted  with  his  trick  of  setting  words  to  the 
music  of  quaint  rhymes  ;  but  Father  Holland  was 
taken  aback. 

"By  the  saints,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I've  no  mind 
to  run  amuck  of  Pegasus!  I'll  get  out  of  your 
way.  Faith,  'tis  the  first  time  I've  seen  poetry 
in  buckskin  of  this  particular  binding,"  and  he 
wheeled  his  broncho  out,  leaving  me  abreast  of 
the  rhymster. 

Pierre's  lips  began  to  frame  some  answer  to  the 
churchman. 

"Have  a  care.  Father,"  I  warned.  "You've 
escaped  the  broncho ;  but  look  out  for  the 
poet." 

"  Save  us  !  What's  coming  now  ?  "  gasped  the 
priest. 

"Ha!  I  have  it !  "  and  Pierre  turned  trium- 
phantly to  Father  Holland. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised  that  poetry's  free, 
Or  you'd  bottle  it  up  like  a  saint's  thumb-bone, 

That  beauty's  beauty  for  eyes  that  see 
Without  regard  to  a  priestly  gown " 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  203 

"  Hold  on,"  interrupted  Father  Holland. 
"  Hold  on,  Pierre  !  " 

"  '  Your  double-quick  Peg 
Has  s.  limp  of  one  leg !  * 

"  '  Bone  '  and  '  gown  *  don't  fit,  Mr.  Rhymster." 

''  Upon  my  honor !  You  turned  poet,  too, 
Father  Holland  !  "  said  I.  "  We  might  be  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Helicon." 

**  To  where  ?  "  says  Grant,  whose  knowledge  of 
classics  was  less  than  my  own,  which  was  pre- 
cious little  indeed. 

"  Helicon." 

At  that  Father  Holland  burst  in  such  roars  of 
laughter,  the  rhymster  took  personal  offense,  dug 
his  moccasins  against  the  horse's  sides  and  rode 
ahead.  His  fringed  leggings  were  braced  straight 
out  in  the  stirrups  as  if  he  anticipated  his  broncho 
transforming  the  concave  into  the  convex, — 
known    in  the  vernacular  as  '*  bucking." 

*' Mad  as  a  hatter,"  said  Grant,  inferring  the 
joke  was  on  Pierre.  "Let  him  be!  Let  him  be  ! 
He'll  get  over  it  !  He's  working  up  his  rhymes 
for  the  feast  after  the  buffalo  hunt." 

And  we  afterwards  got  the  benefit  of  those 
rhymes. 

The  tenth  day  west  from  Pembina  our  scouts 
found  some  herd's  footprints  on  soggy  ground. 
At  once  word  was  sent  back  to  pitch  camp  on 
rolling  land.  A  cordon  of  carts  with  shafts 
turned  outward  encircled  the  camping  ground. 
At  one   end  the  animals   were  tethered,  at  the 


204  Lords  of  the  North 

other  the  hunter's  tents  were  huddled  together. 
All  night  mongrel  curs,  tearing  about  the  en- 
closure in  packs,  kept  noisy  watch.  Twice  Grant 
and  I  went  out  to  reconnoitre.  We  saw  only  a 
whitish  wolf  scurrying  through  the  long  grass. 
Grant  thought  this  had  disturbed  the  dogs  ;  but 
I  was  not  so  sure.  Indeed,  I  felt  prepared  to 
trace  features  of  Le  Grand  Diable  under  every 
elk-hide,  or  wolf-skin  in  which  a  cunning  Indian 
could  be  disguised.  I  deemed  it  wise  to  have  a 
stronger  guard  and  engaged  two  runners.  Ringing 
Thunder  and  Burnt  Earth,  giving  them  horses 
and  ordering  them  to  keep  within  call  during  the 
thick  of  the  hunt. 

At  daybreak  all  tents  were  a  beehive  of  activ- 
ity. The  horses,  with  almost  human  intelligence, 
were  wild  to  be  off.  Riders  could  scarcely  gain 
saddles,  and  before  feet  were  well  in  the  stirrups, 
the  bronchos  had  reared  and  bolted  away,  only  to 
be  reined  sharply  in  and  brought  back  to  the  ranks. 
The  dogs,  too,  were  mad,  tearing  after  make-be- 
lieve enemies  and  worrying  one  another  till  there 
were  several  curs  less  for  the  hunt.  Inside  the  cart 
circle,  men  were  shouting  last  orders  to  women, 
squaws  scolding  half-naked  urchins,  that  scam- 
pered in  the  way,  and  the  whole  encampment  set- 
ting up  a  din  that  might  have  scared  any  buffalo 
herd  into  endless  flight.  Grant  gave  the  word. 
Pierre  hoisted  the  flag,  and  the  camp  turmoil  was 
left  behind.  The  Bois-Brules  kept  well  within 
the  lines  and  observed  good  order ;  but  the  In- 
dian rabble  lashed  their  half-broken  horses  into  a 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  205 

fury  of  excitement,  that  threatened  confusion  to 
all  discipline.  The  camp  was  strongly  guarded. 
Father  Holland  remained  with  the  campers,  but 
in  spite  of  his  holy  calling,  I  am  sure  he  longed 
to  be  among  the  hunters. 

Scouts  ahead,  we  followed  the  course  of  a  half- 
dried  slough  where  buffalo  tracks  were  visible. 
Some  two  miles  from  camp,  the  out-runners  re- 
turned with  word  that  the  herds  were  browsing  a 
short  distance  ahead,  and  that  the  marsh-bed 
widened  to  a  banked  ravine.  The  buffalo  could 
not  have  been  found  in  a  better  place  ;  for  there 
was  a  fine  slope  from  the  upper  land  to  our  game. 
We  at  once  ascended  the  embankment  and  coursed 
cautiously  along  the  cliff's  summit.  Suddenly  we 
rounded  an  abrupt  headland  and  gained  full  view 
of  the  buffalo.  The  flag  was  lowered,  stopping 
the  march,  and  up  rose  our  captain  in  his  stirrups 
to  survey  the  herd.  A  light  mist  screened  us  and 
a  deep  growth  of  the  leathery  grass,  common  to 
marsh  lands,  half  hid  a  multitude  of  broad, 
humped,  furry  backs,  moving  aimlessly  in  the 
valley.  Coal-black  noses  poked  through  the  green 
stalks  sniffing  the  air  suspiciously  and  the  curved 
horns  tossed  broken  stems  off  in  savage  con- 
tempt. 

From  the  headland  beneath  us  to  the  rolling 
prairie  at  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  the  earth 
swayed  with  giant  forms.  The  great  creatures 
were  restless  as  caged  tigers  and  already  on  the 
rove  for  the  day's  march.  I  suppose  the  vast 
flocks  of  wild  geese,  that  used  to  darken  the  sky 


2o6  Lords  of  the  North 

and  fill  the  air  with  their  shrill  "  hunk,  hunk," 
when  I  first  went  to  the  north,  numbered  as  many 
living  beings  in  one  mass  as  that  herd  ;  but  men 
no  more  attempted  to  count  the  creatures  in  flock 
or  herd,  than  to  estimate  the  pebbles  of  a  shore. 

Protruding  eyes  glared  savagely  sideways. 
Great,  thick  necks  hulked  forward  in  impatient 
jerks ;  and  those  dagger-pointed  horns,  sharper 
than  a  pruning  hook,  promised  no  boy's  sport  for 
our  company.  The  buffalo  sees  best  laterally  on 
the  level,  and  as  long  as  we  were  quiet  we  re- 
mained undiscovered.  At  the  prospect,  some  of 
the  hunters  grew  excitedly  profane.  Others  were 
timorous,  fearing  a  stampede  in  our  direction. 
Being  above,  we  could  come  down  on  the  rear  of 
the  buffaloes  and  they  would  be  driven  to  the 
open. 

Grant  scouted  the  counseled  caution.  The 
hunters  loaded  guns,  filled  their  mouths  with  balls 
to  reload  on  the  gallop  and  awaited  the  captain's 
order.  Wheeling  his  horse  to  the  fore,  the 
warden  gave  one  quick  signal.  With  a  storm- 
burst  of  galloping  hoofs,  we  charged  down  the 
slope.  At  sound  of  our  whirlwind  advance,  the 
bulls  tossed  up  their  heads  and  began  pawing 
the  ground  angrily.  From  the  hunters  there  was 
no  shouting  till  close  on  the  herd,  then  a  wild 
halloo  with  unearthly  screams  from  the  Indians 
broke  from  our  company.  The  buffaloes  started 
up,  turned  panic-stricken,  and  with  bellowings, 
that  roared  down  the  valley,  tore  for  the  open 
prairie.  The  ravine  rocked  with  the  plunging  mon- 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  207 

sters,  and  reechoed  to  the  crash  of  six-hundred  guns 
and  a  thunderous  tread.  Firing  was  at  close  range. 
In  a  moment  there  was  a  battle  royal  between 
dexterous  savages,  swift  as  tigers,  and  these  levi- 
athans of  the  prairie  with  their  brute  strength. 

A  quick  fearless  horse  was  now  invaluable  ;  for 
the  swiftest  riders  darted  towards  the  large  buf- 
faloes and  rode  within  a  few  yards  before  taking 
aim.  Instantly,  the  ravine  was  ablaze  with  shots. 
Showers  of  arrows  from  the  Indian  hunters  sung 
through  the  air  overhead.  I\Ien  unhorsed,  ponies 
thrown  from  their  feet,  buffaloes  wounded — or 
dead — were  scattered  everywhere.  One  angry 
bull  gored  furiously  at  his  assailant,  ripping  his 
horse  from  shoulder  to  flank,  then,  maddened  by 
the  creature's  blood,  and  before  a  shot  from  a 
second  hunter  brought  him  down,  caught  the 
rider  on  its  upturned  horns  and  tossed  him  high. 
By  keeping  deftly  to  the  fore,  where  the  buffalo 
could  not  see,  and  swerving  alternately  from  side 
to  side  as  the  enraged  animals  struck  forward, 
trained  horses  avoided  side  thrusts.  The  saddle- 
girths  of  one  hunter,  heading  a  buffalo  from  the 
herd,  gave  way  as  he  was  leaning  over  to  send  a 
final  ball  into  the  brute's  head.  Down  he  went, 
shoulders  foremost  under  its  nose,  while  the  horse, 
with  a  deft  leap  cleared  the  vicious  drive  of  horns. 
Strange  to  say,  the  buffalo  did  not  see  where  he 
fell  and  galloped  onward.  Carcasses  were  mowed 
down  like  felled  trees ;  but  still  we  plunged  on 
and  on,  pursuing  the  racing  herd  ;  while  the  ground 
shook  in  an  earthquake  under  stampeding  hoofs. 


2o8  Lords  of  the  North 

I  had  forgotten  time,  place,  danger — everything 
in  the  mad  chase  and  was  hard  after  a  savage  old 
warrior  that  outraced  my  horse.  Gradually  I 
rounded  him  closer  to  the  embankment.  My 
broncho  was  blowing,  almost  wind-spent,  but  still 
I  dug  the  spurs  into  him,  and  was  only  a  few 
lengths  behind  the  buffalo,  when  the  wily  beast 
turned.  With  head  down,  eyes  on  fire  and  nos- 
trils blood-red,  he  bore  straight  upon  me.  My 
broncho  reared,  then  sprang  aside.  Leaning  over 
to  take  sure  aim,  I  fired,  but  a  side  jerk  unbal- 
anced me.  I  lost  my  stirrup  and  sprawled  in  the 
dust.  When  I  got  to  my  feet,  the  buffalo  lay 
dead  and  my  broncho  was  trottingback.  Hunters 
were  still  tearing  after  the  disappearing  herd. 
Riderless  horses,  mad  with  the  smell  of  blood  and 
snorting  at  every  flash  of  powder,  kept  up  with 
the  wild  race.  Little  Fellow,  La  Robe  Noire, 
Burnt  Earth,  and  Ringing  Thunder,  had  evidently 
been  left  in  the  rear  ;  for  look  where  I  might  I 
could  not  see  one  of  my  four  Indians.  Near  me 
two  half-breeds  were  righting  their  saddles.  I  also 
was  tightening  the  girths,  which  was  not  an  easy 
matter  with  my  excited  broncho  prancing  round 
in  a  circle.  Suddenly  there  was  the  whistle  of 
something  through  the  air  overhead,  like  a  cata- 
pult stone,  or  recoiling  whip-lash.  The  same  in- 
stant one  of  the  half-breeds  gave  an  upward  toss 
of  both  arms  and,  with  a  piercing  shriek,  fell  to 
the  ground.  The  fellow  caught  at  his  throat  and 
from  his  bared  chest  protruded  an  arrow  shaft. 

I   heard   his   terrified    comrade    shout,  *'  The 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  209 

Sioux !     the  Sioux !  "     Then    he  fled  in  a  panic 
of  fear,  not  knowing  where  he    was  going  and 
staggering  as  he  ran  ;  and  I  saw  him  pitch  forward 
face  downwards.     I  had  barely  realized  what  had 
happened  and  what  it  all  meant,  before  an  exul- 
tant shout  broke  from  the  high  grass  above  the 
embankment.     At  that  my  horse  gave  a  plunge 
and,  wrenching  the  rein  from  my  grasp,  galloped 
off  leaving  me  to  face  the  hostiles.     Half  a  score 
of   Indians  scrambled  down  the  cliff  and  ran  to 
secure  the   scalps  of  the  dead.     Evidently  I  had 
not  been  seen  ;  but  if  I  ran  I  should  certainly  be 
discovered  and  a  Sioux's  arrow  can   overtake  the 
swiftest  runner.     I  was  looking  hopelessly  about 
for  some  place  of  concealment,  when  like  a  demon 
from  the  earth  a  horseman,  scarlet  in   war-paint 
appeared  not  a  hundred  yards  away.    Brandishing 
his   battle-axe,  he  came  towards  me  at  furious 
speed.     With  weapons  in  hand  I  crouched  as  his 
horse   approached  ;    and    the    fool    mistook   my 
action  for   fear.     White   teeth  glistened   and  he 
shrieked  with   derisive    laughter.     I    knew   that 
sound.     Back  came  memory  of  Le  Grand  Diable 
standing  among  the  shadows  of  a  forest  camp- 
fire,  laughing  as  I  struck  him. 

The  Indian  swung  his  club  aloft.  I  dodged 
abreast  of  his  horse  to  avoid  the  blow.  With  a 
jerk  he  pulled  the  animal  back  on  its  haunches. 
Quick,  when  it  rose,  I  sent  a  bullet  to  its  heart. 
It  lurched  sideways,  reared  straight  up  and  fell 
backwards  with  Le  Grand  Diable  under.  The 
fall  knocked  battle-axe  and  club  from  his  grasp ; 
14 


210  Lords  of  the  North 

and  when  his  horse  rolled  over  in  a  final  spasm, 
two  men  were  instantly  locked  in  a  death  clutch. 
The  evil  eyes  of  the  Indian  glared  with  a  fixed 
look  of  uncowed  hatred  and  the  hands  of  the 
other  tightened  on  the  redman's  throat.  Diable 
was  snatching  at  a  knife  in  his  belt,  when  the 
cries  of  my  Indians  rang  out  close  at  hand.  Their 
coming  seemed  to  renew  his  strength  ;  for  with 
the  full  weight  of  an  antagonist  hanging  from  his 
neck,  the  willowy  form  squirmed  first  on  his 
knees,  then  to  his  feet.  But  my  men  -dashed  up, 
knocked  his  feet  from  under  him  and  pinioned 
him  to  the  ground.  La  Robe  Noire,  with  the 
blood-lust  of  his  race,  had  a  knife  unsheathed  and 
would  have  finished  Diable's  career  for  good  and 
all ;  but  Little  Fellow  struck  the  blade  from  his 
hand.  That  murderous  attempt  cost  poor  La 
Robe  Noire  dearly  enough  in  the  end. 

Hare-skin  thongs  of  triple  ply  were  wound 
about  Diable's  crossed  arms  from  wrists  to  elbows. 
Burnt  Earth  gagged  the  knave  with  his  own 
moccasin,  while  Ringing  Thunder  and  Little 
Fellow  quickly  roped  him  neck  and  ankles  to  the 
fore  and  hind  shanks  of  the  dead  buffalo.  This 
time  my  wily  foe  should  remain  in  my  power  till 
I  had  rescued  Miriam. 

'' Monsietir  !  Monsieur!''  gasped  Little  Fel- 
low as  he  rose  from  putting  a  last  knot  to  our 
prisoner's  cords.  ''  The  Sioux  !  "  and  he  pointed 
in  alarm  to  the  cliff. 

True,  in  my  sudden  conflict,  I  had  forgotten 
about  the  marauding  Sioux ;  but  the  fellows  had 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  211 

disappeared  from  the  field  of  the  buffalo  hunt 
and  it  was  to  the  embankment  that  my  Indians 
were  anxiously  looking.  Three  thin  smoke  lines 
were  rising  from  the  prairie.  I  knew  enough  of 
Indian  lore  to  recognize  this  tribal  signal  as  a 
warning  to  the  Sioux  band  of  some  misfortune. 
Was  ]\Iiriam  within  range  of  those  smoke  signals? 
Now  was  my  opportunity.  I  could  offer  Diable 
in  exchange  for  the  Sioux  captives.  ^Meanwhile, 
we  had  him  secure.  He  would  not  be  found  till 
the  hunt  was  over  and  the  carts  came  for  the 
skins. 

Mounting  the  broncho,  which  Little  Fellow 
had  caught  and  brought  back,  I  ordered  the  In- 
dians to  get  their  horses  and  follow  ;  and  I  rode 
up  to  the  level  prairie.  Against  the  southern 
horizon  shone  the  yellow  birch  of  a  wigwam. 
Vague  movements  were  apparent  through  the 
long  grass,  from  which  we  conjectured  the  raiders 
were  hastening  back  with  news  of  Diable's  cap- 
ture. We  must  reach  the  Sioux  camp  before 
these  messengers  caused  another  mysterious  dis- 
appearing of  this  fugitive  tribe. 

We  whipped  our  horses  to  a  gallop.  Again 
thin  smoke  lines  arose  from  the  prairie  and  simul- 
taneously the  wigwam  began  to  vanish.  I  had 
almost  concluded  the  tepee  was  one  of  those  de- 
lusive mirages  which  lead  prairie  riders  on  fools' 
errands,  when  I  descried  figures  mounting  ponies 
where  the  peaked  camp  had  stood.  At  this  we 
lashed  our  horses  to  faster  pace.  The  Sioux  gal- 
loped off  and  more  smoke  lines  were  rising. 


212  Lords  of  the  North 

"  What  do  those  mean,  Little  Fellow  ?  **  I 
asked ;  for  there  was  smoke  in  a  dozen  places 
ahead. 

"  The  prairie's  on  fire,  Mojisieiir  !  The  Sioux 
have  put  burnt  stick  in  dry  grass  !  The  wind — 
it  blow — it  come  hard — fast — fast  this  way  !  "  and 
all  four  Indians  reined  up  their  horses  as  if  they 
would  turn. 

"  Coward  Indians,"  I  cried.  "  Go  on  !  Who's 
put  off  the  trail  by  the  fire  of  a  fool  Sioux  ?  Get 
through  the  fire  before  it  grows  big;  or  it  will 
catch  you  all  and  burn  you  to  a  crisp." 

The  gathering  smoke  was  obscuring  the  fugi- 
tives and  my  Indians  still  hung  back.  Where 
the  Indian  refuses  to  be  coerced,  he  may  be  won 
by  reward,  or  spurred  by  praise  of  bravery. 

"Ten  horses  to  the  brave  who  catches  a 
Sioux  !  "  I  shouted.  *'  Come  on,  Indians  !  Who 
follows  ?  Is  the  Indian  less  brave  than  the  pale 
face? "and  we  all  dashed  forward,  spurring  our 
hard-ridden  horses  without  mercy.  Each  Indian 
gave  his  horse  the  bit.  Beating  them  over  the 
head,  they  craned  flat  over  the  horses'  necks  to 
lessen  resistance  to  the  air.  A  boisterous  wind 
was  fanning  the  burning  grass  to  a  great  tide  of 
fire  that  rolled  forward  in  forked  tongues  ;  but 
beyond  the  flames  were  figures  of  receding 
riders  ;  and  we  pressed  on.  Cinders  rained  on  us 
like  liquid  fire,  scorching  and  maddening  our 
horses ;  but  we  never  paused.  The  billowy 
clouds  of  smoke  that  rolled  to  meet  us  were 
blinding,   and  the    very   atmosphere,   livid   and 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  213 

quivering  with  heat,  seemed  to  become  a  fiery 
fluid  that  enveloped  and  tortured  us.  Involun- 
tarily, as  we  drew  nearer  and  nearer  the  angry 
fire-tide,  my  hand  was  across  my  mouth  to  shut 
out  the  hot  burning  air  ;  but  a  man  must  breathe, 
and  the  next  intake  of  breath  blistered  one's  chest 
like  live  coals  on  raw  flesh.  Little  wonder  our 
poor  beasts  uttered  that  pitiful  scream  against 
pain,  which  is  the  horse's  one  protest  of  suffer- 
ing. Presently,  they  became  wildly  unmanage- 
able ;  and  when  we  dismounted  to  blindfold  them 
and  muffle  their  heads  in  our  jackets,  they 
crowded  and  trembled  against  us  in  a  frenzy  of 
terror.  Then  we  tied  strips  torn  from  our  cloth- 
ing across  our  own  mouths  and,  remounting,  beat 
the  frantic  creatures  forward.  I  have  often  mar- 
veled at  the  courage  of  those  four  Indians.  For 
me,  there  was  incentive  enough  to  dare  every- 
thing to  the  death.  For  them,  what  motive  but 
to  vindicate  their  bravery  ?  But  even  bravery 
in  its  perfection  has  the  limitation  of  physical 
endurance ;  and  we  had  now  reached  the  limit  of 
what  we  could  endure  and  live.  The  fire  wave 
was  crackling  and  licking  up  everything  within  a 
few  paces  of  us.  Live  brands  fell  thick  as  a  rain  of 
fire.  The  flames  were  not  crawling  in  the  insidious 
line  of  the  prairie  fire  when  there  is  no  wind,  but 
the  very  heat  of  the  air  seemed  to  generate  a 
hurricane  and  the  red  wave  came  forward  in  leaps 
and  bounds,  reaching  out  cloven  fangs  that  hissed 
at  us  like  an  army  of  serpents.  I  remember  won- 
dering in  a  half  deHrium  whether  parts  of  Dante's 


214  Lords  of  the  North 

hell  could  be  worse.  With  the  instinctive  cry 
to  heaven  for  help,  of  human-kind  world  over, 
I  looked  above ;  but  there  was  only  a  great 
pitchy  dome  with  glowing  clouds  rolling  and 
heaving  and  tossing  and  blackening  the  firma- 
ment. Then  I  knew  we  must  choose  one  of 
three  things,  a  long  detour  round  the  fire-wave, 
one  dash  through  the  flames — or  death.  I  shouted 
to  the  men  to  save  themselves ;  but  Burnt  Earth 
and  Ringing  Thunder  had  already  gone  off  to 
skirt  the  near  end  of  the  fire-line.  Little  Fellow 
and  La  Robe  Noire  stuck  staunchly  by  me.  We 
all  three  paused,  facing  death  ;  and  the  Indians' 
horses  trembled  close  to  my  broncho  till  I  felt 
the  burn  of  hot  stirrups .  against  both  ankles. 
Our  buckskin  was  smoking  in  a  dozen  places. 
There  was  a  lull  of  the  wind,  and  I  said  to  my- 
self, "The  calm  before  the  end;  the  next  hurri- 
cane burst  and  those  red  demon  claws  will  have 
us."  But  in  the  momentary  lull,  a  place  appeared 
through  the  trough  of  smoke  billows,  where  the 
grass  was  green  and  the  fire-barrier  breached. 
With  a  shout  and  heads  down,  we  dashed  towards 
this  and  vaulted  across  the  flaming  wall,  our 
horses  snorting  and  screaming  with  pain  as  we 
landed  on  the  smoking  turf  of  the  other  side.  I 
gulped  a  great  breath  of  the  fresh  air  into  my 
suffocating  lungs,  tore  the  buckskin  covering 
from  my  broncho's  head  and  we  raced  on  in  a 
swirl  of  smoke,  always  following  the  dust  which 
revealed  the  tracks  of  the  retreating  Sioux. 
There  was  a  whiff  of  singed  hair,  as  if  one  of  th^ 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  215 

horses  had  been  burnt,  and  Little  Fellow  gave  a 
shout.  Looking  back  I  saw  his  horse  sinking  on 
the  blackened  patch  ;  but  La  Robe  Noire  and  I 
rode  on.  The  fugitives  were  ascending  rising 
ground  to  the  south.  They  were  beating  their 
horses  in  a  rage  of  cruelty  ;  but  we  gained  at 
every  pace.  I  counted  twenty  riders.  A  woman 
seemed  to  be  strapped  to  one  horse.  Was  this 
Miriam  ?  We  were  on  moist  grass  and  I  urged 
La  Robe  Noire  to  ride  faster  and  drove  spurs  in 
my  own  beast,  though  I  felt  him  weakening  un- 
der me.  The  Sioux  had  now  reached  the  crest 
of  the  hill.  Our  horses  were  nigh  done,  and  to 
jade  the  fagged  creatures  up  rising  ground  was 
useless. 

When  we  finally  reached  the  height,  the  Sioux 
were  far  down  in  the  valley.  It  was  utterly 
hopeless  to  try  to  overtake  them.  Ah  !  It  is  easy 
to  face  death  and  to  struggle  and  to  fight  and  to 
triumph !  But  the  hardest  of  all  hard  things  is 
to  surrender,  to  yield  to  the  inevitable,  to  turn 
back  just  when  the  goal  looms  through  obscurity  ! 

I  still  had  Diable  in  my  power.  We  headed 
about  and  crawled  slowly  back  by  unburnt  land 
towards  the  buffalo  hunters. 

Little  Fellow,  we  overtook  limping  homeward 
afoot.  Burnt  Earth  and  Ringing  Thunder  awaited 
us  near  the  ravine.  The  carts  were  already  out 
gathering  hides,  tallow,  flesh  and  tongues.  We 
made  what  poor  speed  we  could  among  the  buf- 
falo carcasses  to  the  spot  where  we  had  left  Le 
Grand  Diable.     It  was  Little    Fellow,  who  was 


2i6  Lords  of  the  North 

hobbling  ahead,  and  the  Indian  suddenly  turned 
with  such  a  cry  of  baffled  rage,  I  knew  it  boded 
misfortune.  Running  forward,  I  could  hardly 
believe  my  eyes.  Fools  that  we  were  to  leave 
the  captive  unguarded  !  The  great  buffalo  lay 
unmolested  ;  but  there  was  no  Le  Grand  Diable. 
A  third  time  had  he  vanished  as  if  in  league  with 
the  powers  of  the  air.  Closer  examination  ex- 
plained his  disappearance.  A  wet,  tattered  moc- 
casin, with  the  appearance  of  having  been  chewed, 
lay  on  the  turf.  He  had  evidently  bitten  through 
his  gag,  raised  his  arms  to  his  mouth,  eaten  away 
the  hare  thongs,  and  so,  without  the  help  of  the 
Sioux  raiders,  freed  his  hands,  untied  himself  and 
escaped. 

Dumfounded  and  baffled,  I  returned  to  the  en- 
campment and  took  counsel  with  Father  Holland. 
We  arranged  to  set  out  for  the  Mandanes  on  the 
Missouri.  Diable's  tribe  had  certainly  gone  south 
to  Sioux  territory.  The  Sioux  and  the  Mandanes 
were  friendly  enough  neighbors  this  year.  Living 
with  the  Mandanes  south  of  the  Sioux  country, 
we  might  keep  track  of  the  enemy  without  ex- 
posing ourselves  to  Sioux  vengeance. 

Forebodings  of  terrible  suffering  for  Miriam 
haunted  me.  I  could  not  close  my  eyes  without 
seeing  her  subjected  to  Indian  torture  ;  and  I  had 
no  heart  to  take  part  in  the  jubilation  of  the 
hunters  over  their  great  success.  The  savory 
smell  of  roasting  meat  whiffed  into  my  tent  and 
I  heard  the  shrill  laughter  of  the  squaws  prepar- 
ing  the  hunters'  feast.     With   hard-wood   axles 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  :Si7 

squeaking  loudly  under  the  unusual  burden, 
the  last  cart  rumbled  into  the  camp  enclosure 
with  its  load  of  meat  and  skins.  The  clamor  of 
the  people  subsided  ;  and  I  knew  every  one  was 
busily  gorging  to  repletion,  too  intent  on  the 
satisfaction  of  animal  greed  to  indulge  in  the 
Saxon  habit  of  talking  over  a  meal.  Well  might 
they  gorge  ;  for  this  was  the  one  great  annual 
feast.  There  would  follow  a  winter  of  stint  and 
hardship  and  hunger  ;  and  every  soul  in  the  camp 
was  laying  up  store  against  famine.  Even  the 
dogs  were  happy,  for  they  were  either  roving 
over  the  field  of  the  hunt,  or  lying  disabled  from 
gluttony  at  their  masters'  tents. 

Father  Holland  remained  in  the  tepee  with  me 
talking  over  our  plans  and  plastering  Indian  oint- 
ment on  my  numerous  burns.  By  and  by,  the 
voices  of  the  feasters  began  again  and  we  heard 
Pierre,  the  rhymester,  chanting  the  song  of  the 
buffalo  hunt : 

Now  list  to  the  song  of  the  buffalo  hunt, 
Which  I,  Pierre,  the  rhymester,  chant  of  the  ban'e  ! 
We  are  Bois-Brulis,  Freemen  of  the  plains, 
We  choose  our  chief  I     We  are  no  man's  slave  I 

Up,  riders,  up,  ere  the  early  mist 
Ascends  to  salute  the  rising  sun ! 
Up,  rangers,  up,  ere  the  buffalo  herds 
Sniff  morning  air  for  the  hunter's  gun ! 

They  lie  in  their  lairs  of  dank  spear-g^ass, 

Down  in  the  gorge,  where  the  prairie  dips. 

We've  followed  their  tracks  through  the  sucking  ooze, 

Where  our  bronchos  sank  to  their  steaming  hips. 


2i8  Lords  of  the  North 

We've  followed  their  tracks  from  the  rolling  plain 
Through  slime-green  sloughs  to  a  sedgy  ravine, 
Where  the  cat-tail  spikes  of  the  marsh-grown  flags 
Stand  half  as  high  as  the  billowy  green. 

The  spear-grass  touched  our  saddle-bows, 
The  blade-points  pricked  to  the  broncho's  neck ; 
But  we  followed  the  tracks  like  hounds  on  scent 
Till  our  horses  reared  with  a  sudden  check. 

The  scouts  dart  back  with  a  shout,  "  They  are  found  !  " 

Great  fur-maned  heads  are  thrust  through  reeds, 

A  forest  of  horns,  a  crunching  of  stems. 

Reined  sheer  on  their  haunches  are  terrified  steeds  ! 

Get  you  gone  to  the  squaws  at  the  tents,  old  men. 
The  cart-lines  safely  encircle  the  camp  ! 
Now,  braves  of  the  plain,  brace  your  saddle-girths ! 
Quick  !     Load  guns,  for  our  horses  champ  ! 

A  tossing  of  horns,  a  pawing  of  hoofs. 
But  the  hunters  utter  never  a  word, 
As  the  stealthy  panther  creeps  on  his  prey, 
So  move  we  in  silence  against  the  herd. 

With  arrows  ready  and  triggers  cocked, 
We  round  them  nearer  the  valley  bank ; 
They  pause  in  defiance,  then  start  with  alarm 
At  the  ominous  sound  of  a  gun-barrel's  clank. 

A  wave  from  our  captain,  out  bursts  a  wild  shout, 
A  crash  of  shots  from  our  breaking  ranks. 
And  the  herd  stampedes  with  a  thunderous  boom 
While  we  drive  our  spurs  into  quivering  flanks. 

The  arrows  hiss  like  a  shower  of  snakes, 
The  bullets  puff  in  a  smoky  gust. 
Out  fly  loose  reins  from  the  bronchos'  bits 
And  hunters  ride  on  in  a  whirl  of  dust. 


The  Buffalo  Hunt  219 

The  bellowing  bulls  rush  blind  with  fear 
Through  river  and  marsh,  while  the  trampled  dead 
Soon  bridge  safe  ford  for  the  plunging  herd  ; 
Earth  rocks  like  a  sea  'neath  the  mighty  tread. 

A  rip  of  the  sharp-cur\-ed  sickle-horns, 
A  hunter  falls  to  the  blood-soaked  ground ! 
He  is  gored  and  tossed  and  trampled  down, 
On  dashes  the  furious  beast  with  a  bound, 

When  over  sky-line  hulks  the  last  great  form 

And  the  rumbling  thunder  of  their  hoofs'  beat,  beat, 

Dies  like  an  echo  in  distant  hills, 

Back  ride  the  hunters  chanting  their  feat. 

Now,  old  men  and  squaws,  come  you  out  with  the  carts ! 
There's  meat  against  hunger  and  fur  against  cold  ! 
Gather  full  store  for  the  pemmican  bags, 
Garner  the  booty  of  warriors  bold. 

So  list  ye  the  song  of  the  Bois-BruUs, 

Of  their  glorious  deeds  in  the  days  of  old, 

And  this  is  the  tale  of  the  buffalo  hunt 

Which  I,  Pierre,  the  rhymester,  have  proudly  told. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN   SLIPPERY   PLACES 

A  MORE  desolate  existence  than  the  life  of  a 
fur-trading  winterer  in  the  far  north  can  scarcely 
be  imagined.  Penned  in  some  miserable  lodge  a 
thousand  miles  from  human  companionship,  only 
the  wild  orgies  of  the  savages  varied  the  monot- 
ony of  dull  days  and  long  nights.  The  winter  I 
spent  with  the  Mandanes  was  my  first  in  the 
north.  I  had  not  yet  learned  to  take  events  as 
the  rock  takes  w^ave-blows,  and  was  still  at  that 
mawkish  age  when  a  man  is  easily  filled  with  pro- 
found pity  for  himself.  A  month  after  our  ar- 
rival, Father  Holland  left  the  Mandane  village. 
Eric  Hamilton  had  not  yet  come  ;  so  I  felt  much 
like  the  man  whom  a  gloomy  poet  describes  as 
earth's  last  habitant.  I  had  accompanied  the 
priest  half-way  to  the  river  forks.  Here,  he  was 
to  get  passage  in  an  Indian  canoe  to  the  tribes 
of  the  upper  Missouri.  After  an  affectionate 
farewell,  I  stood  on  a  knoll  of  treeless  land  and 
watched  the  broad-brimmed  hat  and  black  robe 
receding  from  me. 

"  Good-by,  boy  !  God  bless  you  !  "  he  had  said 
in  broken  voice.  "Don't  fall  to  brooding  when 
you're  alone,  or  you'll  lose  your  wits.  Now  mind 
yourself !     Don't  mope  1 " 

220 


In  Slippery  Places  221 

For  my  part,  I  could  not  answer  a  word,  but 
keeping  hold  of  his  hand  walked  on  with  him  a  pace. 
''  Get  away  with  you  !     Go  home,  youngster!  " 
he  ordered,  roughly  shaking  me  off  and  flourish- 
ing his  staff. 

Then  he  strode  swiftly  forward  without  once 
looking  back,  while  I  would  have  given  all  I 
possessed  for  one  last  wave.  As  he  plunged  into 
the  sombre  forest,  where  the  early  autumn  frost 
of  that  north  land  had  already  tinged  the  maple 
woods  with  the  hectic  flush  of  coming  death,  so 
poignant  was  this  last  wresting  from  human  fel- 
lowship, I  could  scarcely  resist  the  impulse  to 
desert  my  station  and  follow  him.  Poorer  than 
the  poorest  of  the  tribes  to  whom  he  ministered, 
alone  and  armed  only  with  his  faith,  this  man 
was  ready  to  conquer  the  world  for  his  INIaster. 
"Would  that  I  had  half  the  courage  for  my 
quest,"  I  mused,  and  walked  slowly  back  to  the 
solitar}/  lodge. 

Black  Cat,  Chief  of  the  Mandane  village,  in  a 
noisy  harangue,  adopted  me  as  his  son  and  his 
brother  and  his  father  and  his  mother  and  I 
know  not  what  ;  but  apart  from  trade  with  his 
people,  I  responded  coldly  to  these  warm  over- 
tures. From  Father  Holland's  leave-taking  to 
Hamilton's  coming,  was  a  desolately  lonesome 
interval.  Daily  I  went  to  the  north  hill  and 
strained  my  eyes  for  figures  against  the  horizon. 
Sometimes  horsemen  would  gradually  loom  into 
view,  head  first,  then  arms  and  horse,  like  the 
peak  of  a  ship  preceding  appearance  of  full  canvas 


222  Lords  of  the  North 

and  hull  over  sea.  Thereupon  I  would  hur- 
riedly saddle  my  own  horse  and  ride  furiously 
forward,  feeling  confident  that  Hamilton  had  at 
last  come,  only  to  find  the  horsemen  some  com- 
pany of  Indian  riders.  What  could  be  keeping 
him?  I  conjectured  a  thousand  possibilities; 
but  in  truth  there  was  no  need  for  any  conjec- 
tures. 'Twas  I,  who  felt  the  days  drag  like  years. 
Hamilton  was  not  behind  his  appointed  time. 
He  came  at  last,  walking  in  on  me  one  night 
when  I  least  expected  him  and  was  sitting 
moodily  before  my  untouched  supper.  He  had 
nothing  to  tell  except  that  he  had  wasted  many 
weeks  following  false  clues,  till  our  buffalo  hunt- 
ers returned  with  news  of  the  Sioux  attack, 
Diable's  escape  and  our  bootless  pursuit.  At  once 
he  had  left  Fort  Douglas  for  the  Missouri,  pausing 
often  to  send  scouts  scouring  the  country  for 
news  of  Diable's  band ;  but  not  a  trace  of  the 
rascals  had  been  found  ;  and  his  search  seemed  on 
the  whole  more  barren  of  results  than  mine. 
Laplante,  he  reported,  had  never  been  seen  the 
night  after  he  left  the  council  hall  to  find  the 
young  Nor'-Wester.  In  my  own  mind,  I  had  no 
doubt  the  villain  had  been  in  that  company  we 
pursued  through  the  prairie  fire.  Altogether,  I 
think  Hamilton's  coming  made  matters  worse 
rather  than  better.  That  I  had  failed  after  so 
nearly  effecting  a  rescue  seemed  to  embitter  him 
unspeakably. 

Out  of  deference   to  the  rival    companies  em. 
ploying  us,  we  occupied  different  lodges.    Indeed, 


In  Slipper}'  Places  223 

I  fear  poor  Erie  did  but  a  sorry  business  for  the 
Hudson's  Bay  that  winter.  I  verily  believe  he 
would  have  forgotten  to  eat,  let  alone  barter  for 
furs,  had  I  not  been  there  to  lug  him  forcibly 
across  to  my  lodge,  where  meals  were  prepared 
for  us  both.  Often  when  I  saw  the  Indian  trap- 
pers gathering  before  his  door  with  piles  of  pel- 
tries, I  would  go  across  and  help  him  to  value  the 
furs.  At  first  the  Indian  rogues  were  inclined  to 
take  advantage  of  his  abstraction  and  palm  off 
one  miserable  beaver  skin,  where  they  should 
have  given  five  for  a  new  hatchet  ;  and  I  began 
to  understand  why  they  crowded  to  his  lodge, 
though  he  did  nothing  to  attract  them,  while  they 
avoided  mine.  Then  I  took  a  hand  in  Hudson's 
Ba}''  trade  and  equalized  values.  First,  I  would 
pick  over  the  whole  pile,  which  the  Indians  had 
thrown  on  the  floor,  putting  spoiled  skins  to  one 
side,  and  peltries  of  the  same  kind  in  classified 
heaps. 

"  Lynx,  buffalo,  musk-ox,  marten,  beaver,  silver 
fox,  black  bear,  raccoon  !  Want  them  all,  Eric  ?  "  I 
would  ask,  while  the  Indians  eyed  me  with  sus- 
picious resentment. 

*'  Certainly,  certainly,  take  everything,"  Eric 
would  answer,  without  knowing  a  word  of  what  I 
had  said,  and  at  once  throwing  away  his  oppor- 
tunity to  drive  a  good  bargain. 

Picking  over  the  goods  of  Hamilton's  packet, 
the  Mandanes  would  choose  what  they  wanted. 
Then  began  a  strange,  silent  haggling  overprices. 
Unlike  Oriental  races,  the  Indian  maintains  stolid 


224  Lords  of  the  North 

silence,  compelling  the  white  man  to  do  the  talk- 
ing. 

"  Eric,  Running  Deer  wants  a  gun,"  I  would 
begin. 

''  For  goodness*  sake,  give  it  to  him,  and  don't 
bother  me,"  Eric  would  urge,  and  the  faintest 
gleam  of  amused  triumph  would  shoot  from  the 
beady  eyes  of  Running  Deer.  Running  Deer's 
peltries  would  be  spread  out,  and  after  a  half  hour 
of  silent  consideration  on  his  part  and  trader's 
talk  on  mine,  furs  to  the  value  of  so  many  beaver 
skins  would  be  passed  across  for  the  coveted  gun. 
I  remember  it  was  a  wretched  old  squaw  with 
a  toothless,  leathery,  much-bewrinkled  face  and  a 
reputation  for  knowledge  of  Indian  medicines,  who 
first  opened  my  eyes  to  the  sort  of  trade  the  In- 
dians had  been  driving  with  Hamilton.  The  old 
creature  was  bent  almost  double  over  her  stout 
oak  staff  and  came  hobbling  in  with  a  bag  of 
roots,  which  she  flung  on  the  floor.  After  thaw- 
ing out  her  frozen  moccasins  before  the  lodge  fire 
and  taking  off  bandages  of  skins  about  her  ankles, 
she  turned  to  us  for  trade.  We  were  ready  to 
make  concessions  that  might  induce  the  old  body 
to  hurry  away  ;  but  she  demanded  red  flannel,  tea 
and  tobacco  enough  to  supply  a  whole  family  of 
grandchildren,  and  sat  down  on  the  bag  of  roots 
prepared  to  out-siege  us. 

"  What's  this,  Eric  ?  "  I  asked,  knowing  no  more 
of  roots  than  the  old  woman  did  of  values. 

"  Seneca  for  drugs.  For  goodness'  sake,  buy  it 
quick  and  don't  haggle." 


In  Slippery  Places  225 

"  But  she  wants  your  whole  kit,  man,"  I  ob- 
jected. 

"  She'll  have  the  whole  kit  and  the  shanty,  too, 
if  you  don't  get  her  out,"  said  Hamilton,  opening 
the  lodge  door ;  and  the  old  squaw  presently 
limped  off  with  an  armful  of  flannel,  one  tea 
packet  and  a  parcel  of  tobacco,  already  torn 
open.  Such  was  the  character  of  Hamilton's 
bartering  up  to  the  time  I  elected  myself  his  first 
lieutenant  ;  but  as  his  abstractions  became  almost 
trance-like,  I  think  the  superstition  of  the  Indians 
was  touched.  To  them,  a  maniac  is  a  messenger 
of  the  Great  Spirit  ;  and  Hamilton's  strange  ways 
must  have  impressed  them,  for  they  no  longer 
put  exorbitant  values  on  their  peltries. 

After  the  day's  trading  Eric  would  come  to  m*y 
hut.  Pacing  the  cramped  place  for  hours,  wild-eyed 
and  silent,  he  would  abruptly  dash  into  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  like  one  on  the  verge  of  madness. 
Thereupon,  the  taciturn,  grave-faced  La  Robe 
Noire,  tapping  his  forehead  significantly,  would 
look  with  meaning  towards  Little  Fellow ;  and  I 
would  slip  out  some  distance  behind  to  see  that 
Hamilton  did  himself  no  harm  while  the  paroxysm 
lasted.  So  absorbed  was  he  in  his  own  gloom, 
for  days  he  would  not  utter  a  syllable.  The  storm 
that  had  gathered  would  then  discharge  its 
strength  in  an  outburst  of  incoherent  ravings, 
which  usually  ended  in  Hamilton's  illness  and  my 
watching  over  him  night  and  day,  keeping  fire- 
arms out  of  reach.  I  have  never  seen — and  hope 
I  never  may — any  other  being  age  so  swiftly  and 
15 


226  Lords  of  the  North 

perceptibly.  I  had  attributed  his  worn  appear- 
ance in  Fort  Douglas  to  the  cannon  accident  and 
trusted  the  natural  robustness  of  his  constitution 
would  throw  off  the  apparent  languor;  but  as 
autumn  wore  into  winter,  there  were  more  gray 
hairs  on  his  temple,  deeper  lines  furrowed  his  face 
and  the  erect  shoulders  began  to  bow. 

When  days  slipped  into  weeks  and  weeks  into 
months  without  the  slightest  inkling  of  Miriam's 
whereabouts  to  set  at  rest  the  fear  that  my  rash 
pursuit   had   caused  her  death,  I  myself. grew  ut- 
terly despondent.     Like  all  who  embark  on  daring 
ventures,  I  had  not  counted  on  continuous  frus- 
tration.    The  idea  that  I  might  waste  a  lifetime 
in  the  wilderness  without  accomplishing  anything 
had  never  entered  my  mind.     Week  after  week, 
the  scouts   dispatched  in  every    direction    came 
back  without  one  word  of  the  fugitives,  and  I  be- 
gan to  imagine  my   association    with  Hamilton 
had  been  unfortunate  for  us  both.     This  added 
to  despair  the  bitterness  of  regret. 

The  winter  was  unusually  mild,  and  less  game 
came  to  the  Missouri  from  the  mountains  and 
bad  lands  than  in  severe  seasons.  By  February, 
we  were  on  short  rations.  Two  meals  a  day,  with 
cat-fish  for  meat  and  dried  skins  in  soup  by  way 
of  variety,  made  up  our  regular  fare  for  mid- 
winter. The  frequent  absence  of  my  two  Indians, 
scouring  the  region  for  the  Sioux,  left  me  to  do 
my  own  fishing  ;  and  fishing  with  bare  ha^/i'^b'in 
frosty  weather  is  not  pleasant  emplo^'';  ment  for  a 
youth  of  soft  up-bringing.     Pr'-jtracted  bachelor- 


In  Slippery  Places  227 

dom  was  also  losing  its  charms  ;  but  that  may 
have  resulted  from  a  new  influence,  which  came 
into  my  life  and  seemed  ever  present. 

At  Christmas,  Hamilton  was  threatened  with 
violent  insanity.  As  the  Mandanes'  provisions 
dwindled,  the  Indians  grew  surlier  toward  us  ;  and 
I  was  as  deep  in  despondency  as  a  man  could  sink. 
Frequently,  I  wondered  whether  Father  Holland 
would  find  us  alive  in  the  spring,  and  I  sometimes 
feared  ours  would  be  the  fate  of  Athabasca 
traders  whose  bodies  satisfied  the  hunger  of  fam- 
ishing Crees. 

How  often  in  those  darkest  hours  did  a 
presence,  which  defied  time  and  space,  come 
silently  to  me,  breathing  inspiration  that  may 
not  be  spoken,  healing  the  madness  of  despair 
and  leaving  to  me  in  the  midst  of  anxiety  a  peace 
which  was  wholly  unaccountable  !  In  the  lambent 
flame  of  the  rough  stone  fireplace,  in  the  darkness 
between  Hamilton's  hut  and  mine,  through  which 
I  often  stole,  dreading  what  I  might  find — every- 
where, I  felt  and  saw,  or  seemed  to  see,  those 
gray  eyes  with  the  look  of  a  startled  soul  opening 
its  virgin  beauty  and  revealing  its  inmost  secrets. 

A  bleak,  howling  wind,  with  great  piles  of 
storm-scud  overhead,  raved  all  the  day  before 
Christmas.  It  was  one  of  those  afternoons  when 
the  sombre  atmosphere  seems  weighted  with 
gloom  and  weariness.  On  Christmas  eve  Hamil- 
ton's brooding  brought  on  acute  delirium.  He 
had  been  more  depressed  than  usual,  and  at  night 
when  we  sat  down  to  a  cheerless  supper  of  hare- 


228  Lords  of  the  North 

skin  soup  and  pemmican,  he  began  to  talk  very 
fast  and  quite  irrationally. 

**  See  here,  old  boy,"  said  I,  "  you'd  better  bunk 
here  to-night.    You're  not  well." 

"  Bunk  !  "  said  he  icily,  in  the  grand  manner  he 
sometimes  assumed  at  the  Quebec  Club  for  the 
benefit  of  a  too  familiar  member.  *'  And  pray,  Sir, 
what  might  *  bunk  *  mean  ?  " 

"  Go  to  bed,  Eric,"  I  coaxed,  getting  tight  hold 
of  his  hands.  *'  You're  not  well,  old  man  ;  come 
to  bed !  " 

"  Bed  !  "  he  exclaimed  with  indignation.  "  Bed ! 
You're  a  madman,  Sir !  I'm  to  meet  Miriam  on 
the  St.  Foye  road."  (It  was  here  that  Miriam 
lived  in  Quebec,  before  they  were  married.)  "  On 
the  St.  Foye  road  !  See  the  lights  glitter,  dearest, 
in  Lower  Town,"  and  he  laughed  aloud.  Then 
followed  such  an  outpouring  of  wild  ravings  I 
wept  from  very  pity  and  helplessness. 

"  Rufus !  Rufus,  lad  1  "  he  cried,  staring  at  me 
and  clutching  at  his  forehead  as  lucid  intervals 
broke  the  current  of  his  madness.  "  Gillespie, 
man,  what's  wrong?  I  don't  seem  able  to  think. 
Who — are — you  ?  Who — in  the  world — are  you  ? 
Gillespie!  O  Gillespie!  I'm  going  mad  !  Am  I 
going  mad  ?  Help  me,  Rufus  !  Why  can't  you 
help  me?  It's  coming  after  me!  See  it!  The 
hideous  thing  !  "  Tears  started  from  his  burning 
eyes  and  his  brow  was  knotted  hard  as  whipcord. 

**  Look !  It's  there  !  "  he  screamed,  pointing  to 
the  fire,  and  he  darted  to  the  door,  where  I  caught 
him.      He   fought  off  my   grasp   with   maniacal 


In  Slippery  Places  229 

strength,    and   succeeded    in   flinging   open    the 
door.''    Then  I  forgot  this  man  was  more  than 
brother  to  me,  and  threw  myself  upon   him  as 
against  an  enemy,  determined  to  have  the  mas- 
tery.    The  bleak  wind  roared  through  the  open 
blackness  of  the  doorway,  and   on   the  ground 
outside  were  shadows  of  two  struggling,  furious 
men.      I  saw  the  terrified  faces  of  Little  Fellow 
and  La  Robe  Noire  peering  through  the  dark,  and 
felt  wet  beads  start   from  every  pore  in  my  body. 
Both  of  us  were  panting  like  fagged  racers.     One 
of  us  was  fighting  blindly,  raining  down  aimless 
blows,  I  know   not  which,  but  I  think  it   must 
have  been  Hamilton,  for  he  presently  sank  in  my 
arms,  limp  and  helpless  as  a  sick  child. 

Somehow  I  got  him  between  the  robes  of  my 
floor  mattress.  Drawing  a  box  to  the  bedside  I 
again  took  his  hands  between  mine  and  prepared 
for  a  night's  watch. 

He  raved   in  a  low,  indistinct  tone,  muttering 
Miriam's  name  again  and  again,  and  tossing  his 
head  restlessly  from  side  to  side.      Then  he  fell 
into  a  troubled  sleep.    The  supper  lay  untouched. 
Torches   had    burned    black    out.      One    tallow 
candle,  that  I  had  extravagantly  put  among  some 
evergreens— our  poor  decorations  for  Christmas 
Eve— sputtered  low  and  threw  ghostly,  branching 
shadows  across  the  lodge.      I  slipped  from  the 
sick  man's  side,  heaped  more  logs  on  the  fire  and 
stretched  out  between  robes  before  the  hearth. 
In  the  play  of  the  flame  Hamilton's  face  seemed 
suddenly  and  strangely  calm.     Was  it  the  dim 


230  Lords  of  the  North 

light,  I  wonder.  The  furrowed  Hnes  of  sorrow 
seemed  to  fade,  leaving  the  peaceful,  transpar- 
ent purity  of  the  dead.  I  could  not  but  associate 
the  branched  shadows  on  the  wall  with  legends 
of  death  keeping  guard  over  the  dying.  The 
shadow  by  his  pillow  gradually  assumed  vague, 
awesome  shape.  I  sat  up  and  rubbed  my  eyes. 
Was  this  an  illusion,  or  was  I,  too,  going  mad? 
The  filmy  thing  distinctly  wavered  and  receded 
a  little  into  the  dark. 

An  unspeakable  fear  chilled  my  veins. .  Then  I 
could  have  laughed  defiance  and  challenged 
death.  Death  !  Curse  death  !  What  had  we  to 
fear  from  dying?  Had  we  not  more  to  fear  from 
living  ?  At  that  came  thought  of  my  love  and  the 
tumult  against  life  was  quieted.  I,  too,  like  other 
mortals,  had  reason,  the  best  of  reason,  to  fear 
death.  What  matter  if  a  lonely  one  like  myself 
went  out  alone  to  the  great  dark?  But  when 
thought  of  my  love  came,  a  desolating  sense  of 
separation — separation  not  to  be  bridged  by  love 
or  reason — overwhelmed  me,  and  I,  too,  shrank 
back. 

Again  I  peered  forward.  The  shadow  fluttered, 
moved,  and  came  out  of  the  gloom,  a  tender 
presence  with  massy,  golden  hair,  white-veined 
brow,  and  gray  eyes,  speaking  unutterable  things. 

"  ]\Iy  beloved  !  "  I  cried.  "  Oh,  my  beloved  !  " 
and  I  sprang  towards  her;  but  she  had  glided 
back  among  the  spectral  branches. 

The  candle  tumbled  to  the  floor,  extinguishing 
all   light,  and    I   was  alone   with  the   sick   man 


In  Slipper}^  Places  231 

breathing  heavily  in  the  darkness.  A  leg  broke 
over  the  fire.  The  flames  burst  up  again  ;  but  I 
was  still  alone.  Had  I,  too,  lost  grip  of  reality ; 
or  was  she  in  distress  calling  for  me  ?  Neither 
suggestion  satisfied ;  for  the  mean  lodge  was  sud- 
denly filled  with  a  great  calm,  and  my  whole 
being  was  flooded  and  thrilled  with  the  trancing 
ecstasy  of  an  ethereal  presence. 

If  I  remember  rightly — and  to  be  perfectly 
frank,  I  do — though  I  was  in  as  desperate  straits 
as  a  man  could  be,  I  lay  before  the  hearth  that 
Christmas  Eve  filled  with  gratitude  to  heaven — 
God  knows  such  a  gift  must  have  come  from 
heaven  ! — for  the  love  with  which  I  had  been 
dowered. 

How  it  might  have  been  with  other  men  I 
know  not.  For  myself,  I  could  not  have  come 
through  that  dreary  winter  unscathed  without  the 
influence  of  her,  who  would  have  been  the  first  to 
disclaim  such  power.  Among  the  velvet  cushions 
of  the  east  one  may  criticise  the  lapse  of  white 
man  to  barbarity;  but  in  the  wilderness  human 
voice  is  as  grateful  to  the  ear  as  rain  patter  in  a 
drouth.  There,  men  deal  with  facts,  not  argu- 
ments. Natives  break  the  loneliness  of  an  isolated 
life  by  not  unwelcomed  visits.  Comes  a  time 
when  they  tarr}^  over  long  in  the  white  man's 
lodge.  Other  men,  who  have  scouted  the  possi- 
bility of  sinking  to  savagery',  have  forsaken  the 
ways  of  their  youth.  Who  can  say  that  I  might 
not  have  departed  from  the  path  called  recti- 
tude } 


232  Lords  of  the  North 

Religion  may  keep  a  holy  man  upright  in 
slippery  places ;  but  for  common  mortals,  de- 
votion to  a  being,  whom,  in  one  period  of  their 
worship  men  rank  with  angels,  does  much  to 
steady  wavering  feet.  Hers  was  the  influence 
that  aroused  loathing  for  the  drunken  debauches, 
the  cheating,  the  depraved  living  of  the  Indian 
lodges:  hers,  the  influence  that  kept  the  loathing 
from  slipping  into  indifference,  the  indifference 
from  becoming  participation.  Indeed,  I  could 
wish  a  young  man  no  better  talisman  against  the 
world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  than  love  for  a  pure 
woman. 

How  we  dragged  through  the  hours  of  that 
night,  of  Christmas  and  the  days  that  followed,  I 
do  not  attempt  to  set  down  here.  Hamilton's 
illness  lasted  a  month.  What  with  trading  and 
keeping  our  scouts  on  the  search  for  Miriam  and 
waiting  on  the  sick  man,  I  had  enough  to  busy 
me  without  brooding  over  my  own  woes.  Hard 
as  my  life  was,  it  was  fortunate  I  had  no  time  for 
thoughts  of  self  and  so  escaped  the  melancholy 
apathy  that  so  often  benumbs  the  lonely  m.an's 
activities.  And  when  Eric  became  convalescent, 
I  had  enough  to  do  finding  diversion  for  his  mind. 
Keeping  record  of  our  doings  on  birch-bark  sheets, 
playing  quoits  with  the  Mandanesand  polo  with  a 
few  fearless  riders,  helped  to  pass  the  long  weary 
days. 

So  the  dismal  winter  wore  away  and  spring  was 
drizzling  into  summer.  Within  a  few  weeks  we 
should  be  turning  our  faces  northward  for  the 


In  Slippery  Places  233 

forks  of  the  Red  and  Assiniboine.  The  prospect 
of  movement  after  long  stagnation  cheered  Ham- 
ilton and  fanned  what  neither  of  us  would  ac- 
knowledge— a  faint  hope  that  Miriam  might  yet 
be  alive  in  the  north.  I  verily  believe  Eric  would 
have  started  northward  with  restored  courage  had 
not  our  plans  been  thwarted  by  the  sinister  handi- 
work of  Le  Grand  Diable. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   GOOD   WHITE    FATHER 

For  a  week  Hamilton  and  I  had  been  busy  in 
our  respective  lodges  getting  peltries  and  per- 
sonal  belongings  into  shape  for  return  to  Red  River. 
On  Saturday  night,  at  least  I  counted  it  Saturday 
from  the  notches  on  my  doorpost,  though  Eric* 
grown  morose  and  contradictory,  maintained  that 
it  was  Sunday — we  sat  talking  before  the  fire  of 
my  lodge.  A  dreary  raindrip  pattered  through 
the  leaky  roof  and  the  soaked  parchment  tacked 
across  the  window  opening  flapped  monotonously 
against  the  pine  logs. 

Unfastening  the  moon-shaped  medallion,  which 
my  uncle  had  given  me,  I  slowly  spelled  out  the 
Nor'-Westers'  motto—''  Fortitude  in  Distress." 

"For-ti-tude  in  Dis-tress,"  I  repeated  idly. 
"  By  Jove,  Hamilton,  we  need  it,  don't  we?" 

Eric's  lips  curled  in  scorn.  Without  answering, 
he  impatiently  kicked  a  fallen  brand  back  to  the 
live  coals.  I  know  old  saws  are  poor  comfort  to 
people  in  distress,  being  chiefly  applicable  w^hen 
they  are  not  needed. 

''  What  in   the  world  can  be   keeping  Father 
Holland  ?  "  I  asked,  leading  off  on  another  tack. 
234 


The  Good  White  Father  235 

"  Here  we  are  almost  into  the  summer,  and  never 

a  sight  of  him." 

"  Did  you  really  expect  him  back  alive  from  the 
Bloods?"    sneered    Hamilton.     He  had    uncon- 
sciously acquired  a  habit  of  expecting  the  worst. 
"Certainly,"   I    returned.     ''He's  been  among 
them  before." 

♦'  Then  all  I  have  to  say  is,  you're  a  fool !  " 
Poor  Eric  !  He  had  informed  me  I  was  a  fool  so 
often  in  his  ravings  I  had  grown  quite  used  to  the 
insult.  He  glared  savagely  at  the  fire,  and  if  I 
had  not  understood  this  bitterness  towards  the 
missionary,  the  next  remark  was  of  a  nature  to 
enlighten  me. 

''  I  don't  see  why  any  man  in  his  senses  wants 
to  save  the  soul  of  an  Indian,"  he  broke  out. 
"  Let  them  go  where  they  belong !  Souls !  They 
haven't  any  souls,  or  if  they  have,  it's  the  soul  of 

a  fiend " 

''  By  the  bye,  Eric,"  I  interrupted,  for  this  petu- 
lant ill-humor,  that  saw  naught  but  evil  in  every- 
thing,  was  becoming  too  frequent  and  always 
ended  in  the  same  way— a  night  of  semi-delirium, 
''  by  the  bye,  did  you  see  those  fellows  turning  up 
soil  for  corn  with  a  buffalo  shoulder-blade  as  a 

hoe?" 

*'  I  wish  every  damn  Red  a  thousand  feet  under 
the  soil,  deeper  than  that,  if  the  temperature  in- 
creases." 

It  was  impossible  to  talk  to  Hamilton  without 
provoking  a  quarrel.  Leaning  back  with  hands 
clasped    behind   my   head,    I   watched   through 


236  Lords  of  the  North 

half-closed  eyes  his  sad  face  darkling  under 
stormy  moods. 

At  last  the  rain  succeeded  in  soaking  through 
the  parchment  across  the  window  and  the  wind 
drove  through  a  great  split  in  chilling  gusts  that 
added  to  the  cabin's  discomfort.  I  got  up  and 
jammed  an  old  hat  into  the  hole.  At  the  window 
I  heard  the  shouting  of  Indians  having  a  hilarious 
night  amiong  the  lodges  and  was  amazed  at  the 
sound  of  discharging  firearms  above  the  huzzas, 
for  ammunition  was  scarce  among  the  Mandanes. 
The  hubbub  seemed  to  be  coming  towards  our  hut. 
I  could  see  nothing  through  the  window  slit,  and 
lighting  a  pine  fagot,  shot  back  the  latch-bolt  and 
threw  open  the  door.  A  multitude  of  tawny,  joy- 
ous, upturned  faces  thronged  to  the  steps.  The 
crowd  was  surging  about  some  newcomer,  and 
Chief  Black  Cat  was  prancing  around  in  an  ecstasy 
of  delight,  firing  away  all  his  gunpowder  in  joyous 
demonstration.  I  lifted  my  torch.  The  Indians 
fell  back  and  forth  strode  Father  Holland,  his 
face  shining  wet  and  abeam  with  pleasure.  The 
Indians  had  been  welcoming  ''their  good  white 
father."  As  he  dismissed  his  Mandane  chil- 
dren we  drew  him  in  and  placed  his  soaked  over- 
garments before  the  fire.  Then  we  proffered  him 
all  the  delicacies  of  bachelors' quarters,  and  filled 
and  refilled  his  bowl  with  soup,  and  did  not  stop 
pouring  out  our  lye-black  tea  till  he  had  drained 
the  dregs  of  it. 

Having  satisfied  his  inner-man,  we  gave  him  the 
best  stump-tree  seat  in  the  cabin  and  sat  back  to 


The  Good  White  Father  237 

Hsten.  There  was  the  awkward  pause  of  reunion, 
when  friends  have  not  had  time  to  gather  up  the 
loose  threads  of  a  parted  past  and  weave  them  anew 
into  stronger  bands  of  comradeship.  Hamilton 
and  the  priest  were  strangers ;  but  if  the  latter 
were  as  overcome  by  the  meeting  after  half  a  year's 
isolation  as  I  was,  the  silence  was  not  surprising. 
To  me  it  seemed  the  genial  face  was  unusually 
grave,  and  I  noticed  a  long,  horizontal  scar  across 
his  forehead. 

*'  What's  that,  Father  ? "  I  asked,  indicating 
the  mark  on  his  brow. 

"  Tush,  youngster  !  Nothing  !  Nothing  at  all ! 
Sampled  scalping-knife  on  me;  thought  better  of 
it,  kept  me  out  of  the  martyr's  crown." 

"  And  left  you  your  own  !  "  cried  Hamilton  as- 
tonished at  the  priest's  careless  stoicism. 

**  Left  me  my  own,"  responded  Father  Holland. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  the  murderous "  I 

began. 

"  Tush,  youngster !  Be  quiet ! "  said  he. 
**  Haven't  many  brethren  come  from  the  same 
tribe  more  like  warped  branches  than  men  ? 
What  am  I,  that  I  should  escape  ?  Never  speak 
of  it  again,"  and  he  continued  his  silent  study  of 
the  flames'  play. 

"  Where  are  your  Indians  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  In  the  lodges.     Shall  I  whistle  for  them  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  leaned  forward  with 
elbows  on  his  knees,  rubbing  his  chin  vigor- 
ously first  with  one  hand,  then  the  other,  still 
studying  the  fire. 


238  Lords  of  the  North 

"  How  strong  are  the  Mandanes  ?  "  he  asked. 

*'  Weak,  weak,"  I  answered.  "  Few  hundred. 
It  hasn't  been  worth  while  for  traders  to  come 
here  for  years." 

"  Was  it  worth  while  this  year  ?  " 

"  Not  for  trade." 

"  For  anything  else  ?  "  and  he  looked  at  Eric's 
dejected  face. 

"  Nothing  else,"  I  put  in  hastily,  fearing  one  of 
Hamilton's  outbreaks.  "  We've  been  completely 
off  the  track,  might  better  have  stayed  in  the 
north " 

*'  No,  you  mightn't,  not  by  any  means,"  was  his 
sharp  retort.  ''  I've  been  in  the  Sioux  lodges  for 
three  weeks." 

With  an  inarticulate  cry,  Hamilton  sprang  to 
his  feet.  He  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot  and 
caught  Father  Holland  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

*'  Speak  out.  Sir  !  What  of  Miriam  ?  "  he  de- 
manded  in  dry,  hard,  rasping  tones. 

''Well,  well,  safe  and  inviolate.  So's  the  boy,  a 
big  boy  now  !  May  ye  have  them  both  in  y'r  arms 
soon — soon — soon  !  "  and  again  he  fell  to  study- 
ing the  fire  with  an  unhurried  deliberation,  that 
was  torture  to  Hamilton. 

*'  Are  they  with  you  ?  Are  they  with  you  ?  " 
shouted  Hamilton,  hope  bounding  up  elastically 
to  the  wildest  heights  after  his  long  depression. 
"  Don't  keep  me  in  suspense  !  I  cannot  bear  it. 
Tell  me  where  they  are,"  he  pleaded.  "Are  they 
with  you  ?  "  and  his  eyes  burned  into  the  priest's 
like  live  coals.     "  Are — they — with — you  ?  " 


The  Good  White  Father  239 

**  No — Lord — no  !  "  roared  Father  Holland, 
alarmed  at  Hamilton's  violent  condition.  ''  But," 
he  added,  seeing  Eric  reel  dizzily,  ''but  they're 
all  right !  Now  you  keep  quiet  and  don't  scare 
the  wits  out  of  a  body  !  They're  all  right,  I  tell 
you,  and  I've  come  straight  from  them  for  the 
ransom  price." 

"Get  it,  Rufus,  get  it!  "  shouted  Hamilton  to 
me,  throwing  his  hands  distractedly  to  his  head, 
a  habit  too  common  with  him  of  late.  *'  Get  it ! 
Get  it !  "  he  kept  calling,  utterly  beside  himself. 

'*  Sit  down,  will  you  ?  "  thundered  the  priest, 
as  if  Eric's  sitting  down  would  calm  all  agitation. 
**  Sit  down  !  Behave  !  Keep  quiet,  both  of  you, 
or  my  tongue'll  forget  holy  orders  and  give  ye 
some  good  Irish  eloquence !  What  d'  y'  mane, 
scarin'  the  breath  out  of  a  body  and  blowing  his 
ideas  to  limbo  ?     Keep  quiet,  now,  and  listen !  " 

"And  did  they,"  I  cried,  in  spite  of  the  in- 
junction, "did  they  do  that  to  you  ?"  pointing  to 
the  scar  on  his  brow. 

"Yes,  they  did." 

"  Because  they  saw  you  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  that's  a  brand  for  the  faith,  you  con- 
ceited whelp,  you — they  stopped  their  tortures 
because  they  saw  you  with  me.  Now,  swell  out, 
Rufus,  and  gloat  over  your  importance !  I  tell 
you  it  was  the  devil,  himself,  snatched  my  martyr's 
crown." 

"Le  Grand  Diable?" 

"  Le  Grand  Diable's  own  minion.  I  saw  his  dev- 
ilish eyes  leering  from  the  back  o'  the  crowd,  when 


240  Lords  of  the  North 

I  was  tied  to  a  stake.  '  Bring  that  Indian  to  me,* 
sez  I,  transfixing  him  with  my  gaze  ;  for — you  un- 
derstand— I  couldn't  point,  my  hands  being  tied. 
Troth  I  But  ye  should  *a'  seen  their  looks  of 
amazement  at  me  boldness  !  There  was  I,  roped 
to  that  tree,  like  a  pig  for  the  boiling  pot,  and  sez 
I,  'Bring — that  Indian — to  me!'  just  as  though 
I  was  managing  the  execution,"  and  the  priest 
paused  to  enjoy  the  recollection  of  the  effects  of 
his  boldness. 

"  A  squaw  up  with  an  old  clout,"  he  continued, 
*'  and  slashed  it  across  my  face,  saying,  '  Take 
that,  pale  face !  Take  that,  man  with  a  woman's 
skirts  on  ! '  and  '  Take  that ! '  howled  a  young 
buck,  fetching  the  flat  of  his  dagger  across  me 
forehead,  close-cropped  hair  giving  no  grip  for 
scalping,  not  to  mention  a  pate  as  bald  as  mine," 
and  the  priest  roared  at  his  own  joke,  patting  his 
bare  crown  affectionately. 

"Though  the  blood  was  boilin'  in  me  enraged 
veins  and  dribblin'  down  my  face  like  the  rain 
to-night,  by  the  help  o'  the  Lord,  I  felt  no 
pain.  Never  flinchin*  nor  takin' heed  o' that  bold 
baste  of  a  squaw,  I  bawled  like  a  bull  of  Bashan, 
'  Bring — that  Indian — to  me,  coward-hearted 
Sioux — d'  y'  fear  an  Iroquois?  Bring  him  to  me 
and  I'll  make  him  enrich  your  tribe !  * 

"  Faith  I  Their  eyes  grew  big  as  a  harvest  moon 
and  they  brought  Le  Grand  Diable  to  me.  Know- 
ing his  covetous  heart,  I  told  him  if  he  still  had 
the  woman  and  the  child,  I'd  get  him  a  big  ransom. 
At  that  they  all  jangled  a  bit,  the    old  squaw 


The  Good  White  Father  241 

clouting  me  with  her  filthy  rag  as  if  she  wanted 
to  slap  me  to  a  peak.     At  length  they  let  Le  Grand 
Diable  unfast-en  the  bands.     With  my  hands  tied 
behind  my  back,  I  was  taken  to  his  lodge.     Mir- 
iam and  the  boy  were  kept  in  a  place  behind  the 
Sioux  squaw's  hut.     Once  when  the  skin  tied  be- 
tween blew  up,  1  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  poor 
white  face.     The  boy  was  playing  round  her  feet. 
I  was  in  a  corner  of  the  lodge  but  was  so  grimed 
with  grease  and  dirt,  if  she  saw  me  she  thought  I 
was  some   Indian  captive  and  turned   away  her 
head.     I    told    Le    Grand    Diable    in    habitant 
French — which   the  rascal    understands — that  I 
could  obtain  a  good   ransom    for   his  prisoners. 
He  left  me  alone  in  the  lodge  for  some  hours,  I 
think  to  spy  upon  me  and  learn  if  I  tried  to  speak 
to  Miriam  ;  but  I  lay  still  as  a  log  and  pretended 
to  sleep.     When  he  came  back,  he  began  barter- 
ing for  the  price  ;  but  I  could  make  him  no  prom- 
ises as  to  the  amount  or  time  of  payment,  for  I 
was  not  sure  you  were  here,  and  would  not  have 
him  know  where  you  are. 

"  He  kept  me  hanging  on  for  his  answer  during 
the  whole  week,  and  many  a  time  Miriam  brushed 
past  so  close  her  skirts  touched  me;  but  that  she- 
male  devil  of  his— may  the  Lord  give  them  both 
a  warm,  front  seat  !  —was  always  watching  and  I 
could  not  speak.  Miriam's  face  was  hidden  under 
her  shawl  and  she  looked  neither  to  the  right,  nor 
to  the  left.  I  don't  think  she  ever  saw  me.  On 
condition  you  stay  in  your  camp  and  don't  go  to 
meet  her,  but  send  your  two  Indians  alone  for  her 
16 


242  Lords  of  the  North 

with  your  offer,  he  let  me  go.  Here  I  am  !  Now, 
Rufus,  where  are  your  men  ?  Off  with  them 
bearing  more  gifts  than  the  Queen  of  Sheba 
carried  to  Solomon  !  " 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

From  the  hour  that  La  Robe  Noire  and  Little 
Fellow,  laden  with  gaudy  trinkets  and  hunting 
outfits,  departed  for  the  Sioux  lodges,  Hamilton 
was  positively  a  madman.  In  the  first  place,  he 
had  been  determined  to  disguise  himself  as  an 
Indian  and  go  instead  of  La  Robe  Noire,  whose 
figure  he  resembled.  To  this,  we  would  not  listen. 
Le  Grand  Diable  was  not  the  man  to  be  tricked 
and  there  was  no  sense  in  ransoming  Miriam  for  a 
captive  husband.  Then,  he  persisted  in  riding 
part  of  the  way  with  our  messengers,  which  ne- 
cessitated my  doing  likewise.  I  had  to  snatch  his 
horse's  bridle,  wheel  both  our  horses  round  and 
head  homeward  at  a  gallop,  before  he  would  listen 
to  reason  and  come  back. 

Round  the  lodges  he  was  a  ramping  tiger. 
Twenty  times  a  day  he  went  from  our  hut  to  the 
height  of  land  commanding  the  north  country, 
keeping  me  on  the  run  at  his  heels ;  and  all  night 
he  beat  around  the  cramped  shack  as  if  it  had 
been  a  cage.  On  the  fourth  day  from  the  mes- 
sengers' departure,  chains  could  not  bind  him. 
If  all  went  well,  they  should  be  with  us  at  night. 
In  defiance  of  Le  Grand  Diable  s  conditions, 
which  an  arrow  from  an  unseen  marksman  might 
enforce,  Eric  saddled  his  mare  and  rode  out  to 
meet  the  men. 


The  Good  White  Father         243 

Of  course  Father  Holland  and  I  peltered  after 
him  ;  but  it  was  only  because  gathering  darkness 
prevented  travel  that  we  prevailed  on  him  to  dis- 
mount and  await  the  Indians'  coming  at  the  edge 
of  the  village. 

At  last  came  the  clank,  clank  of  shod  hoofs  in 
the  valley.  The  natives  used  only  unshod  animals, 
so  we  recognized  our  men.  Hamilton  darted 
away  like  a  hare  racing  for  cover. 

*'  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us !  "  groaned 
Father  Holland.  *' Listen,  lad!  There's  only 
one  horse ! " 

I  threw  myself  to  the  earth  and  laying  my  ear 
to  the  turf  strained  for  every  sound.  The  thud, 
thud  of  a  single  horse,  fore  and  hind  feet  striking 
the  beaten  trail  in  quick  gallop,  came  distinctly 
up  from  the  valley. 

''  It  may  not  be  our  men,"  said  I,  with  sicken- 
ing forebodings  tugging  at  throat  and  heart. 

''  I  mistrusted  them  !  I  mistrusted  the  villains  !  " 
repeated  the  priest.  "  If  only  you  had  enough 
Mandanes   to  ride    down    on    them,    but  you're 

too   weak.     There    are    at    least    t\vo    thousand 

S«» 
lOUX. 

Hamilton  and  Little  Fellow,  talking  loudly  and 
gesticulating,  rode  crashing  through  the  furze. 

"  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  '  shouted  Hamilton 
fiercely      *'  One  of  us  should  have  gone." 

*■  What's  wrong?"  came  from  Father  Holland 
in  a  voice  so  low  and  unnaturally  calm,  I  knew 
he  feared  the  worst. 

'*  Wrong !  "  yelled  Hamilton.      '  They  hold  La 


244  Lords  of  the  North 

Robe  Noire  as  hostage  and  demand  five  hundred 
pounds  of  ammunition,  twenty  guns  and  ten 
horses.     Of  course,  I  should  have  gone " 

"And  would  it  have  mended  matters  if  you'd 
been  held  hostage  too?"  I  demanded,  utterly 
out  of  patience  and  at  that  stage  when  a  little 
strain  makes  a  man  strike  his  best  friends.  "  You 
know  very  well,  the  men  were  only  sent  to  make 
an  offer.  You'd  no  right  to  expect  everything  on 
one  trip  without  any  bargaining *' 

"  Shut  up,  boy  !  "  exclaimed  Father  Holland. 
"  Just  when  ye  both  need  all  y*r  wits,  y'r  scatter- 
ing them  to  the  four  winds.  Now,  mind  your- 
selves !  I  don't  like  these  terms  !  'Tis  the  devil's 
own  doing  !     Let's  talk  this  over  !  " 

With  a  vast  deal  of  the  wordy  eloquence  that 
characterizes  Indian  diplomacy,  the  tenor  of  Le 
Grand  Diable's  message  was  ''  His  shot  pouch  was 
light  and  his  pipe  cold  ;  he  hung  down  his  head 
and  the  pipe  of  peace  had  not  been  in  the  coun- 
cil ;  the  Sioux  were  strangers  and  the  whites 
were  their  enemies ;  the  pale-faces  had  been  in 
their  power  and  they  had  always  conveyed  them  on 
their  journey  with  glad  hearts  and  something  to 
eat."  Finally,  the  Master  of  Life,  likewise  Earth, 
Air,  Water,  and  Fire  were  called  on  to  witness 
that  if  the  white  men  delivered  five  hundred 
rounds  of  ammunition,  twenty  guns  and  ten 
horses,  the  white  woman  and  her  child,  likewise 
the  two  messengers,  would  be  sent  safely  back  to 
the  Mandane  lodge  ;  none  but  these  two  messen^ 
gers  would  be  permitted  in  the  Sioux  camp  ;  also, 


The  Good  White  Father  245 

the  Sioux  would  not  answer  for  the  lives  of  the 
white  men  if  they  left  the  Mandane  lodges.  Let 
the  white  men,  therefore,  send  back  the  full  ransom 
by  the  hands  of  the  same  messenger. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LE  GRAND  DIABLE  SENDS  BACK   OUR   MESSENGER 

Father  Holland  advised  caution  and  consid- 
eration before  acting.  A  policy  of  bargaining 
was  his  counsel. 

"  I  don't  like  those  terms,  at  all,"  he  said,  "  too 
much  like  giving  your  weapons  to  the  enemy.  I 
don't  like  all  this." 

He  would  temporize  and  rely  on  Le  Grand 
Diable's  covetous  disposition  bringing  him  to  our 
terms  ;  but  Hamilton  would  hear  of  neither  cau- 
tion nor  delay. 

The  ransom  price  was  at  once  collected.  Next 
morning,  Little  Fellow,  on  a  fresh  mount  with  a 
string  of  laden  horses  on  each  side,  went  post 
haste  back  to  the  Sioux. 

In    all   conscience,    Hamilton    had    been    wild 

enough  during  the  first   parley.     His  excitement 

now  exceeded  all  bounds.      The  first   two  days, 

when  there  was  no  possibility  of  Miriam's  coming 

and  Little  Fellow  could  not  yet  have  reached  the 

Sioux,  I  tore  after  Eric  so  often   I   lost  count  of 

the   races  between   our  lodge  and  the  north  hill 

The  performance  began  again  on  the  third  day, 

and  I  broke  out  with  a  piece  of  my  mind,  which 

surprised  him  mightily. 
246 


How  our  Messenger  was  Sent  Back     247 

"  Look  you  here,  Hamilton  !  "  I  exclaimed, 
rounding  him  back  from  the  hill,  "  Can't  you 
stop  this  nonsense  and  sit  still  for  only  two  days 
more,  or  must  I  tie  you  up  ?  You've  tried  to  put 
me  crazy  all  winter  and,  by  Jove,  if  you  don't  stop 
this,  you'll  finish  the  job " 

He  gazed  at  me  with  the  dumb  look  of  a  wounds 
ed  animal  and  v/as  too  amazed  for  words.  Leav- 
ing me  in  mid-road,  feeling  myself  a  brute,  he 
went  straight  to  his  own  hut.  After  that  incident, 
he  gave  us  no  further  anxiety  and  kept  an  iron 
grip  on  his  impatience.  With  me,  anger  had 
given  place  to  contrition.  He  remained  much  by 
himself  until  the  night,  when  our  messengers  were 
expected.  Then  he  came  across  to  my  quarters, 
where  Father  Holland  and  I  were  keyed  up  to 
the  highest  pitch.  Putting  out  his  hand  he  said— 

''  Is  it  all  right  with  us  again,  Rufus,  old  man?  " 

That  speech  nigh  snapped  the  strained  cords. 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  gripping  the  extended  hand^ 
and  I  immediately  coughed  hard,  to  explain  away 
the  undue  moisture  weUing  into  my  eyes. 

We  all  three  sat  as  still  and  silent  as  a  death- 
watch.  Father  Holland  fumbling  and  pretending 
to  pore  over  some  holy  volume,  Eric  with  fingers 
tightly  interlaced  and  upper  teeth  biting  through 
lower  lip,  and  I  with  clenched  fists  dug  into  jacket 
pockets  and  a  thousand  imaginary  sounds  singing 
wild  tunes  in  my  ears. 

How  the  seconds  crawled,  and  the  minutes 
barely  moved,  and  the  hours  seemed  to  heap  up 
in  a  blockade   and  crush   us   with   their    leaden 


248  Lords  of  the  North 

weight !  Twice  I  sought  rehef  for  pent  emotion 
by  piHng  wood  on  the  fire,  though  the  night 
was  mild,  and  by  breaking  the  glowing  embers 
into  a  shower  of  sparks.  The  soft,  moccasined  tread 
of  Mandanespast  our  door  startled  Father  Holland 
so  that  his  book  fell  to  the  floor,  while  I  shook 
like  a  leaf.  Strange  to  say,  Hamilton  would  not 
allow  himself  the  luxury  of  a  single  movement, 
though  the  lowered  brows  tightened  and  teeth  cut 
deeper  into  the  under  lip. 

Dogs  set  up  a  barking  at  the  other  end  of  the 
village — a  common  enough  occurrence  where  half- 
starved  curs  roved  in  packs — but  I  could  not 
refrain  from  lounging  with  a  show  of  indifference 
to  the  doorway,  where  I  peered  through  the  moon- 
silvered  dusk.  As  usual,  the  Indians  with  shrill 
cry  flew  at  the  dogs  to  silence  them.  The  noise 
seemed  to  be  annoying  my  companions  and  was 
certainly  unnerving  me,  so  I  shut  the  door  and 
walked  back  to  the  fire. 

The  howl  of  dogs  and  squaws  increased.  I 
heard  the  angry  undertone  of  men's  voices.  A 
hoarse  roar  broke  from  the  Mandane  lodges  and 
rolled  through  the  village  like  the  sweep  of  coming 
hurricane.  There  was  a  fleet  rush,  a  swift  patter^ 
ing  of  something  pursued  running  round  the  rear 
of  our  lodge,  with  a  shrieking  mob  of  men  and 
squaws  after  it.  The  dogs  were  barking  furiously 
and  snapping  at  the  heels  of  the  thing,  whatever 
it  was. 

"  A  hostile  !  "  exclaimed  Hamilton,  leaping  up. 

Hardly  knowing  what  I  did,  I  bounded  towards 


How  our  Messenger  was  Sent  Back     249 

the  door  and  shot  forward  the  bolt,  with  a  vague 
fear  that  blood  might  be  spilled  on  our  threshold. 

"For  shame,  man  I "  cried  Father  Holland, 
making  to  undo  the  latch. 

But  the  words  had  not  passed  his  lips  when  the 
parchment  flap  of  the  window  lifted.  A  voice 
screamed  through  the  opening  and  in  hurtled  a 
round,  nameless,  blood-soaked  horror,  rolling  over 
and  over  in  a  red  trail,  till  it  stopped  with  up- 
turned, dead,  glaring  eyes  and  hideous,  gaping 
mouth,  at  the  very  feet  of  Hamilton. 

It  was  the  scalpless  head  of  La  Robe  Noire. 
Our  Indian  had  paid  the  price  of  his  own  blood- 
lust  and  Diable's  enmity. 

Before  the  full  enormity  of  the  treachery — mes- 
sengers murdered  and  mutilated,  ransom  stolen 
and  captives  kept — had  dawned  on  me,  Father 
Holland  had  broken  open  the  door.  He  was  rush- 
ing through  the  night  screaming  for  the  Man- 
danes  to  catch  the  miscreant  Sioux.  When  I 
turned  back,  not  daring  to  look  at  that  awful 
object,  Hamilton  had  fallen  to  the  hut  floor  in 
a  dead  faint. 

And  now  may  I  be  spared  recalling  what  oc- 
curred on  that  terrible  night ! 

Women  luxuriate  and  men  traffic  in  the  wealth 
of  the  great  west,  but  how  many  give  one  languid 
thought  to  the  years  of  bloody  deeds  by  which 
the  west  was  won  ? 

•  ••••• 

Before  restoring  Hamilton,  it  was  necessary  to 


250  Lords  of  the  North 

remove  that  which  was  unseemly  ;  also  to  wash  out 
certain  stains  on  the  hearth-stones  ;  and  those 
things  would  have  tried  the  courage  of  more 
iron-nerved  men  than  myself. 

I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if  Eric  had 
come  out  of  that  faint,  a  gibbering  maniac  ;  but 
I  toiled  over  him  with  the  courage  of  blank 
hopelessness,  pumping  his  arms  up  and  down, 
forcing  liquor  between  the  clenched  teeth,  splash- 
ing the  cold,  clammy  face  with  water,  and  laving 
his  forehead.  At  last  he  opened  his  eyes  wearily. 
Like  a  man  ill  at  ease  with  life,  moaning,  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

Outside,  it  was  as  if  the  unleashed  furies  of 
hell  fought  to  quench  their  thirst  in  human  blood. 
The  clamor  of  those  red  demons  was  in  my  ears 
and  I  was  still  working  over  Hamilton,  loosening 
his  jacket  collar,  under-pillowing  his  chest,  fan- 
ning him,  and  doing  everything  else  I  could  think 
of,  to  ease  his  labored  breathing,  when  Father 
Holland  burst  into  the  lodge,  utterly  unmanned 
and  sobbing  like  a  child. 

*' For  the  Lord's  sake,  Rufus,"  he  cried,  "for 
the  Lord's  sake,  come  and  help  I  They're  mur- 
dering him  !  They're  murdering  him  !  'Twas  I 
who  set  them  on  him,  and  I  can't  stop  them  !  I 
can't  stop  them  I  " 

''Let  them  murder  him  I  "  I  returned,  uncon- 
sciously demonstrating  that  the  civilized  heart 
differs  only  in  degree  from  the  barbarian. 

'*  Come,  Rufus,"  he  pleaded,  "  come,  for  the 
love  of  Frances,  or  your  hands  will  not  be  clean. 


How  our  Messenger  was  Sent  Back     251 

There'll  be  blood  on  your  hands  when  you  go 
back  to  her.    Come,  come  !  " 

Out  we  rushed  through  the  thronging  Man- 
danes,  now  riotous  with  the  lust  of  blood.  A  ring 
of  young  bucks  had  been  formed  round  the  Sioux 
to  keep  the  crowd  off.  Naked,  with  arms  pinioned, 
the  victim  stood  motionless  and  without  fear. 

"  Good  white  father,  he  no  understand,"  said 
the  Mandanes,  jostling  the  weeping  priest  back 
from  the  circle  of  the  young  men.  ''  Good  white 
father,  he  go  home  ! "  In  spite  of  protest  by 
word  and  act  they  roughly  shoved  us  to  our  lodge, 
the  doomed  man's  death  chant  ringing  in  our  ears 
as  they  pushed  us  inside  and  clashed  our  door. 
In  vain  we  had  argued  they  would  incur  the 
vengeance  of  the  Sioux  nation.  Our  voices  were 
drowned  in  the  shout  for  blood — for  blood  ! 

The  sigh  of  the  wind  brought  mournful  strains 
of  the  victim's  dirge  to  our  lodge.  I  fastened  the 
door,  with  robes  against  it  to  keep  the  sound  out. 
Then  a  smell  of  burning  drifted  through  the 
window,  and  I   stop-gapped  that,  too,  with  more 

robes. 

•  ••••• 

That  the  Sioux  would  wreak  swift  vengeance 
could  not  be  doubted.  As  soon  as  the  murderous 
work  was  over,  guides  were  with  difficulty  en- 
gaged. Having  fitted  up  a  sort  of  prop  in  which 
I  could  tie  Hamilton  to  the  saddle,  I  saw  both 
Father  Holland  and  Eric  set  out  for  Red  River 
before  daybreak. 

It  was  best  they  should  go  and  I  remain.     If 


252  Lords  of  the  North 

Miriam  were  still  in  the  country,  stay  I  would, 
till  she  were  safe ;  but  I  had  no  mind  to  see  Eric 
go  mad  or  die  before  the  rescue  could  be  accom- 
plished. 

As  they  were  leaving  I  took  a  piece  of  birch 
bark.    On    it    I    wrote  with    a   charred  stick : — 

"  Greetings   to    my  own    dear   love  from    her 
ever  loyal  and  devoted  knight." 

This,  Father  Holland  bore  to  Frances  Suther- 
land from  me. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   PRICE   OF   BLOOD 

How  many  shapeless  terrors  can  spring  from 
the  mind  of  man  I  never  knew  till  Eric  and  the 
priest  left  me  alone  in  the  Mandane  village. 
Ever,  on  closing  my  eyes,  there  rolled  and  rolled 
past,  endlessly,  without  going  one  pace  beyond 
my  sight,  something  too  horrible  to  be  contem- 
plated. When  I  looked  about  to  assure  myself 
the  thing  was  not  there — could  not  possibly  be 
there — memory  flashed  back  the  whole  dreadful 
scene.  Up  started  glazed  eyes  from  the  hearth, 
the  floor,  and  every  dim  nook  in  the  lodge. 
Thereupon  I  would  rush  into  the  village  road, 
where  the  shamefaced  greetings  of  guilty  Indians 
recalled  another  horror. 

If  I  ventured  into  Le  Grand  Diable's  power  a  fate 
worse  than  La  Robe  Noire's  awaited  me.  That 
there  would  be  a  hostile  demonstration  over  the 
Sioux  messenger's  death  I  was  certain.  Nothing 
that  I  offered  could  induce  any  of  the  Indians  to 
act  as  scouts  or  to  reconnoiter  the  enemy's  en- 
campment. I  had,  of  my  own  will,  chosen  to 
remain,  and  now  I  found  myself  with  tied  hands, 
fuming  and  gnashing  against  fate,  conjuring  up 

all  sorts  of  projects  for  the  rescue  of  Miriam,  and 

253 


254  Lords  of  the  North 

butting  my  head  against  the  impossible  at  every 
turn.    Thus  three  weary  days  dragged  past. 

Having  reflected  on  the  consequences  of  their 
outrage,  the  Mandanes  exhibited  repentance 
of  a  characteristically  human  form — resentment 
against  the  cause  of  their  trouble.  Unfortu- 
nately, I  was  the  cause.  From  the  black  looks  of 
the  young  men  I  half  suspected,  if  the  Sioux 
chief  would  accept  me  in  lieu  of  material  gifts, 
I  might  be  presented  as  a  peace-offering.  This 
would  certainly  not  forward  my  quest,  and  pru- 
dence, or  cowardice — two  things  easily  confused 
when  one  is  in  peril — counseled  discretion,  and 
discretion  seemed  to  counsel  flight. 

"  Discretion  I  Discretion  to  perdition  !  "  I  cried, 
springing  up  from  a  midnight  reverie  in  my  hut. 
Every  selfish  argument  for  my  own  safety  had 
passed  in  review  before  my  mind,  and  something 
so  akin  to  judicious  caution,  which  we  trappers  in 
plain  language  called  "  cowardice,"  was  insidi- 
ously assailing  my  better  self,  I  cast  logic's  soph- 
istries to  the  winds,  and  dared  death  or  torture 
to  drive  me  from  my  post.  Whence  combes  this 
sublime,  reasonless  abandon  of  imperiled  human 
beings,  which  casts  off  fear  and  caution  and  pru- 
dence and  forethought  and  all  that  goes  to  make 
success  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  and  at  one 
blind  leap  mounts  the  Sinai  of  duty  ?  To  me,  the 
impulse  upwards  is  as  mysterious  as  the  impulse 
downwards,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  pagans 
ascribe  one  to  Ormuzd,  the  other  to  Ahriman. 
*Tis  ours  to  yield  or  resist,  and  I  yielded  with  the 


The  Price  of  Blood  255 

vehemence   of    a    passionate   nature,   vowing  in 
the  darkness  of  the  hut—''  Here,  before  God,  I 

stay !  " 

Swift  came  test  of  my  oath.  While  the  words 
were  yet  on  my  lips,  stealthy  steps  suddenly 
glided  round  the  lodge.  A  shuffling  stopped  at 
the  door,  while  a  chilling  fear  took  possession  of 
me  lest  the  mutilated  form  of  my  other  Indian 
should  next  be  hurled  through  the  window.  I 
had  not  time  to  shoot  the  door-bolt  to  its  catch 
before  a  sharp  click  told  of  lifted  latch.  The 
hinge  creaked,  and  there,  distinct  in  the  starlight, 
that  smote  through  the  open,  stood  Little  Fellow, 
himself,  haggard  and  almost  naked. 

'*  Little  Fellow  !  Good  boy  !  "  I  shouted,  pull- 
ing him  in.  "  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  How 
did  you  get  away?    Is  it  you  or  your  ghost  ?  " 

Down  he  squatted  with  a  grunt  on  one  of  the 
robes,  answering  never  a  word.  The  gaunt  look 
of  the  man  declared  his  needs,  so  I  prepared  to 
feed  him  back  to  speech.  This  task  kept  me 
busy  till  daybreak,  for  the  filling  capacity  of  a 
famishing  Indian  may  not  be  likened  to  any  other 
hungry  thing  on  earth  without  doing  the  red  man 
grave  injustice. 

**  Hoohoo  !  Hoohoo  !  But  I  be  sick  man  to- 
morrow !  "  and  he  rubbed  himself  down  with  a 
satisfied  air  of  distension,  declining  to  have  his 
plate  reloaded  for  the  tenth  time.  I  noticed  the 
poor  wretch's  skin  was  cut  to  the  bone  round 
wrists  and  ankles.  Chafed  bandage  marks  en- 
circled the  flesh  of  his  neck. 


256  Lords  of  the  North 

"  What  did  this,  Little  Fellow  ?  "  and  I  pointed 
to  the  scars. 

A  grim  look  of  Indian  gratitude  for  my  interest 
came  into  the  stolid  face. 

"  Bad  Indians,"  was  the  terse  response. 

"  Did  they  torture  you  ?  " 

He  grunted  a  ferocious  negative. 

"You  got  away  too  quick  for  them?" 

An  affirmative  grunt. 

*' Le  Grand  Diable — did  you  see  him?" 

At  that  name,  his  white  teeth  snapped  shut, 
and  from  the  depths  of  the  Indian's  throat  came 
the  vicious  snarl  of  an  enraged  wolf. 

"Come,"  I  coaxed,  "tell  me.  How  long  since 
you  left  the  Sioux?" 

"  Walkee — walkee — walkee — one  sleep,"  and 
rising,  he  enacted  a  hobbling  gait  across  the  cabin 
in  unison  with  the  rhythmic  utterance  of  his  words. 

"  Walkee — walkee — walkee — one." 

"Traveled  at  night!"  I  interrupted.  Two 
nights!     You  couldn't  do  it  in  two  nights!  " 

"  Walkee — walkee — walkee — one  sleep,"  he  re- 
peated. 

"  Three  nights  !  " 

Four  times  he  hobbled  across  the  floor,  which 
meant  he  had  come  afoot  the  whole  distance, 
traveling  only  at  night. 

Sitting  down,  he  began  in  a  low  monotone  re- 
lating how  he  had  returned  to  La  Robe  Noire 
with  the  additional  ransom  demanded  by  Le 
Grand  Diable.  The  "  pig  Sioux,  more  glutton- 
ous than  the   wolverine,  more  treacherous  than 


The  Price  of  Blood  257 

the  mountain  cat,"  had  come  out  to  receive  them 
with  hootings.  The  plunder  was  taken,  "as  a 
dead  enemy  is  picked  by  carrion  buzzards."  He, 
himself,  was  dragged  from  his  horse  and  bound 
like  a  slave  squaw.  La  Robe  Noire  had  been 
stripped  naked,  and  young  men  began  piercing  his 
chest  with  lances,  shouting,  "  Take  that,  man  who 
would  scalp  the  Iroquois  !  Take  that,  enemy  to 
the  Sioux  !  Take  that,  dog  that's  friend  to  the 
white  man!"  Then  had  La  Robe  Noire,  whose 
hands  were  bound,  sprung  upon  his  torturers  and 
as  the  trapped  badger  snaps  the  hand  of  the 
hunter  so  had  he  buried  his  teeth  in  the  face  of 
a  boasting  Sioux. 

Here,  Little  Fellow's  teeth  clenched  shut  in 
savage  imitation.  Then  was  Le  Grand  Diable's 
knife  unsheathed.  More,  my  messenger  could  not 
see  ;  for  a  Sioux  bandaged  his  eyes.  Another 
tied  a  rope  round  his  neck.  Thus,  like  a  dead 
stag,  was  he  pulled  over  the  ground  to  a  wigwam. 
Here  he  lay  for  many  ''  sleeps,"  knowing  not 
when  the  great  sun  rose  and  when  he  sank. 
Once,  the  lodges  became  very  still,  like  many 
waters,  when  the  wind  slumbers  and  only  the  little 
waves  lap.  Then  came  one  with  the  soft,  small 
fingers  of  a  white  woman  and  gently,  scarcely 
touching  him,  as  the  spirits  rustle  through  the 
forest  of  a  dark  night,  had  these  hands  cut  the 
rope  around  his  neck,  and  unbound  him.  A 
whisper  in  the  English  tongue,  "  Go— run— for 
your  life !    Hide  by  day  !     Run  at  night !  " 

The  skin  of  the  tent  wall  was  lifted  by  the  same 
17 


2S8  Lords  of  the  North 

hands.  He  rolled  out.  He  tore  the  blind  from 
his  eyes.  It  was  dark.  The  spirits  had  quenched 
their  star  torches.  No  souls  of  dead  warriors 
danced  on  the  fire  plain  of  the  northern  sky ! 
The  father  of  winds  let  loose  a  blast  to  drown  all 
sound  and  help  good  Indian  against  the  pig  Sioux ! 
He  ran  like  a  hare.  He  leaped  like  a  deer.  He 
came  as  the  arrows  from  the  bow  of  the  great 
hunter.     Thus  had  he  escaped   from  the   Sioux! 

Little  Fellow  ceased  speaking,  wrapped  himself 
in  robes  and  fell  asleep. 

I  could  not  doubt  whose  were  the  liberator's 
hands,  and  I  marveled  that  she  had  not  come 
with  him.  Had  she  known  of  our  efforts  at  all? 
It  seemed  unlikely.  Else,  with  the  liberty  she 
had,  to  come  to  Little  Fellow,  surely  she  would 
have  tried  to  escape.  On  the  other  hand,  her  im- 
munity from  torture  might  depend  on  never 
attempting  to  regain  freedom. 

Now  I  knew  what  to  expect  if  I  were  captured 
by  the  Sioux.  Yet,  given  another  stormy  night, 
if  Little  Fellow  and  I  were  near  the  Sioux  with 
fleet  horses,  could  not  Miriam  be  rescued  in 
the  same  way  he  had  escaped  ?  Until  Little  Fel- 
low had  eaten  and  slept  back  to  his  normal  con- 
dition of  courage,  it  would  be  useless  to  propose 
such  a  hazardous  plan.  Indeed,  I  decided  to  send 
him  to  some  point  on  the  northern  trail,  where  I 
could  join  him  and  go  alone  to  the  Sioux 
camp.  This  would  be  better  than  sitting  still  to 
be  given  as  a  hostage  to  the  Sioux.  If  the  worst 
happened  and  I  were  captured,  had  I  the  courage 


The  Price  of  Blood  259 

to  endure  Indian  tortures  ?  A  man  endures  what 
he  must  endure,  whether  he  will,  or  not;  and  I 
certainly  had  not  courage  to  leave  the  country 
without  one  blow  for  Miriam's  freedom. 

With  these  thoughts,  I  gathered  my  belongings 
in  preparation  for  secret  departure  from  the  Man- 
danes  that  night.  Then  I  prepared  breakfast, 
saw  Little  Fellow  lie  back  in  a  dead  sleep,  and 
strolled  out  among  the  lodges. 

Four  days  had  passed  without  the  coming  of  the 
avengers.  The  villagers  were  disposed  to  forget 
their  guilt  and  treat  me  less  sulkily.  As  I  saun- 
tered towards  the  north  hill,  pleasant  words 
greeted  me  from  the  lodges. 

"  Be  not  afraid,  my  son,"  exhorted  Chief  Black 
Cat.  "  Lend  a  deaf  ear  to  bad  talk  !  No  harm 
shall  befall  the  white  man  !     Be  not  afraid  !  " 

"Afraid!"  I  flouted  back.  "Who's  afraid, 
Black  Cat  ?  Only  white-livered  cowards  fear  the 
Sioux  !  Surely  no  Mandane  brave  fears  the  Sioux 
— ugh  !     The  cowardly  Sioux  !  " 

My  vaunting  pleased  the  old  chief  mightily  ; 
for  the  Indian  is  nothing  if  not  a  boaster.  At 
once  Black  Cat  would  have  broken  out  in  loud 
tirade  on  his  friendship  for  me  and  contempt  for 
the  Sioux,  but  I  cut  him  short  and  moved  towards 
the  hill,  that  overlooked  the  enemy's  territory. 
A  great  cloud  of  dust  whirled  up  from  the  north- 
ern horizon. 

"  A  tornado  the  next  thing  !  "  I  exclaimed 
with  disgust.  "  The  fates  are  against  me  !  A  fig 
for  my  plans !  " 


26o  Lords  of  the  North 

I  stooped.  With  ear  to  the  ground  I  could 
hear  a  rumbHng  clatter  as  of  a  buffalo  stampede. 

"  What  is  it,  my  son  ?"  asked  the  voice  of  the 
chief,  and  I  saw  that  Black  Cat  had  followed  me 
to  the  hill. 

"  Are  those  buffalo,  Black  Cat  ?  "  and  I  pointed 
to  the  north. 

As  he  peered  forward,  distinguishing  clearly 
what  my  civilized  eyes  could  not  see,  his  face 
darkened. 

"  The  Sioux  !  "  he  muttered  with  a  black  look 
at  me.  Turning,  he  would  have  hurried  away 
without  further  protests  of  friendship,  but  I  kept 
pace  with  him. 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  I,  with  a  lofty  contempt,  which 
I  was  far  from  feeling.  *'  Pooh !  Black  Cat ! 
Who's  afraid  of  the  Sioux?  Let  the  women  run 
from  the  Sioux  I 

He  gave  me  a  sidelong  glance  to  penetrate  my 
sincerity  and  slackened  his  flight  to  the  proud 
gait  of  a  fearless  Indian.  All  the  same,  alarm  was 
spread  among  the  lodges,  and  every  woman  and 
child  of  the  Mandanes  were  hidden  behind  barri- 
caded doors.  The  men  mounted  quickly  and 
rode  out  to  gain  the  vantage  ground  of  the  north 
hill  before  the  enemy's  arrival. 

Another  cross  current  to  my  purposes  !  Fool 
that  I  was,  to  have  dilly-dallied  three  whole  days 
away  like  a  helpless  old  squaw  wringing  her  hands, 
when  I  should  have  dared  everything  and  ridden 
to  Miriam's  rescue  !  Now,  if  I  had  been  near  the 
Sioux  encampment,  when  all  the  warriors   were 


The  Price  of  Blood  261 

away,  how  easily  could   I  have  liberated  Miriam 
and  her  child  ! 

Always,  it  is  the  course  we  have  not  followed, 
which  would  have  led  onto  the  success  we  have 
failed  to  grasp  in  our  chosen  path.  So  we  salve 
wounded  mistrust  of  self  and  still,  in  spite  of 
manifest  proof  to  the  contrar>%  retain  a  magnifi- 
cent conceit. 

I  cursed  my  blunders  with  a  vehemence  usually 
reserved  for  other  men's  errors,  and  at  once  decided 
to  make  the  best  of  the  present,  letting  past  and 
future  each  take  care  of  itself,  a  course  which 
will  save  a  man  gray  hairs  over  to-morrow  and 
give  him  a  well-provisioned  to-day. 

Arming  myself,  I   resolved   to   be   among  the 
bargain-makers  of  the  Mandanes  rather  than  be 
bargained  by  the  Sioux.     Wakening   Little  Fel- 
low,  I  told  him  my  plan  and  ordered  him  to  slip 
away  north  while  the  two  tribes  were  parleying 
and  to  await  me  a  day's  march   from   the  Sioux 
camp.     He  told  me  of  a  wooded  valley,  where  he 
could  rest  with  his  horses   concealed,  and  after 
seeing  him   off,  I  rode  straight   for  the  band  of 
assembled  :\Iandanes  and  surprised  them  beyond 
all  measure  by  taking  a  place  in  the   forefront  of 
Black  Cat's  special  guard.     The  Sioux  warriors 
svvept  towards  us  in  a  tornado.     Ascending  the 
slope   at    a    gallop,  whooping  and   beating  their 
drums,   thev   charged  past  us,  and  down  at  full 
speed  through  the  village,  displaying  a  thousand 
dexterities  of  horsemanship  and  prowess  to  strike 


262  Lords  of  the  North 

terror  to  the  Mandanes.  Then  they  dashed  back 
and  reined  up  on  the  hillside  beneath  our  forces. 
The  men  were  naked  to  the  waist  and  their  faces 
were  blackened.  Porcupine  quills,  beavers'  claws, 
hooked  bones,  and  bears'  claws  stained  red  hung 
round  their  necks  in  ringlets,  or  adorned  gorgeous 
belts.  Feathered  crests  and  broad-shielded  mats 
of  willow  switches,  on  the  left  arm,  completed  their 
war  dress.  The  leaders  had  their  buck-skin  leg- 
gings strung  from  hip  to  ankle  with  small  bells, 
and  carried  firearms,  as  well  as  arrows'and  stone 
lances;  but  the  majority  had  only  Indian  weap- 
ons. In  that  respect^— though  we  were  not  one 
third  their  number — we  had  the  advantage.  All 
the  Mandanes  carried  firearmis  ;  but  I  do  not 
believe  there  was  enough  ammunition  to  average 
five  rounds  a  man.  Luckily,  this  was  unknown 
to  the  Sioux.  I  scanned  every  face.  Diable  was 
not  there. 

Scarcely  were  the  ranks  in  position,  when  both 
Sioux  and  IMandanc  chiefs  rode  forward,  and  there 
opened  such  a  harangue  as  I  have  never  heard 
since,  and  hope  I  never  may. 

"  Our  young  man  has  been  killed,"  lamented 
the  Sioux.  "  He  was  a  good  warrior.  His  friends 
sorrow.  Our  hearts  are  no  longer  glad.  Till 
now  our  hands  have  been  white  and  our  hearts 
clean.  But  the  young  man  has  been  slain  and 
we  are  grieved.  Of  the  scalps  of  the  enemy,  he 
brought  many.  We  hang  our  heads.  The  pipe 
of  peace  has  not  been  in  our  council.  The  whites 
are  our  enemies.     Now,  the  young  man  is  dead. 


The  Price  of  Blood  263 

Tell  us  if  we  are  to  be  friends  or  enemies.  We 
have  no  fear.  We  are  many  and  strong.  Our 
bows  are  good.  Our  arrows  are  pointed  with 
flint  and  our  lances  with  stone.  Our  shot-pouches 
are  not  light.  But  we  love  peace.  Tell  us,  what 
doth  the  IMandane  offer  for  the  blood  of  the 
young  man?  Is  it  to  be  peace  or  war  ?  Shall  we 
be  friends  or  enemies?  Do  you  raise  the  toma- 
hawk, or  pipe  of  peace  ?  Say,  great  chief  of  the 
Mandanes,  what  is  thy  answer?  " 

This  and  more  did  the  Sioux  chief  vauntingly 
declaim,  brandishing  his  war  club  and  addressing 
the  four  points  of  the  compass,  also  the  sun,  as 
he  shouted  out  his  defiance.  To  which  Black 
Cat,  in  louder  voice,  made  reply. 

"  Say,  great  chief  of  the  Sioux,  our  dead  was 
brought  into  the  camp.  The  body  was  yet  warm. 
It  was  thrown  at  our  feet.  Never  before  did  it 
enter  the  heart  of  a  Missouri  to  seek  the  blood  of 
a  Sioux  I  Our  messengers  went  to  your  camp 
smoking  the  sacred  calumet  of  peace.  They  were 
sons  of  the  ^Mandanes.  They  were  friends  of  the 
white  men.  The  white  man  is  like  magfic.  He 
comes  from  afar.  He  knows  much.  He  has  given 
guns  to  our  warriors.  His  shot  bags  are  full  and 
his  guns  many.  But  his  men,  ye  slew.  We  are 
for  peace,  but  if  ye  are  for  war,  we  warn  you  to 
leave  our  camp  before  the  warriors  hidden  where 
ye  see  them  not,  break  forth.  We  cannot  answer 
for  the  white  man's  magic,"  and  I  heard  my  power 
over  darkness  and  light,  life  and  death,  magnified 
in  a  way  to  terrify  my  own  dreams  ;  but  Black  Cat 


264  Lords  of  the  North 

cunningly  wound  up  his  bold  declamation  by  ask- 
ing what  the  Sioux  chief  would  have  of  the  white 
man  for  the  death  of  the  messenger, 

A  clamor  of  voices  arose  from  the  warriors, 
each  claiming  some  relationship  and  attributing 
extravagant  virtues  to  the  dead  Sioux, 

"  I  am  the  afflicted  father  of  the  youth  ye  killed," 
called  an  old  warrior,  putting  in  prior  claim  for 
any  forthcoming  compensation  and  enhancing  its 
value  by  adding,  "  and  he  had  many  feathers  in  his 
cap." 

"  He,  who  was  killed,  I  desired  for  a  nephew," 
shouted  another,  *'  and  an  ivory  wand  he  carried  in 
his  hand." 

"  He  who  was  killed   was  my  brother,!'   cried  a 
third,  "  and  he  had  a  new  gun  and  much  powder," 
"  He  was  braver  than  the  buffalo,"  declared  an- 
other. 

"He  had  three  wounds !  "  "  He  had  scars  !  "  "  He 
wore  many  scalps  !  "  came   the  voices    of    others. 
**  Many  bells  and  beads  were  on  his  leggings  !  " 
"  He  had  garnished  moccasins  !  " 
"  He  slew  a  bear  with  his  own  hands  !  " 
"  His  knife  had  a  handle  of  ivory !  " 
"  His  arrows  had  barbs  of  beavers'  claws  I  " 
If   the    noisy    claimants  kept  on^   they   would 
presently  make  the  dead  man  a  god,     I  begged 
Black  Cat  to   cut   the  parley  short  and   demand 
exactly  what  gift   would  compensate   the   Sioux 
for  the  loss  of  so  great  a  warrior.     After  another 
half-hour's  jangling,  in  which  I  took  an  animated 
part,  beating  down  their  exorbitant  request  for 


The  Price  of  Blood  265 

two  hundred  guns  with  beads  and  bells  enough  to 
outfit  the  whole  Sioux  tribe,  we  came  to  terms. 
Indeed,  the  grasping  rascals  well-nigh  cleared  out 
all  that  was  left  of  my  trading  stock;  but  when  I 
saw  they  had  no  intention  of  fighting,  I  held  back 
at  the  last  and  demanded  the  surrender  of  Le 
Grand  Diable,  Miriam  and  the  child  in  compensa- 
tion for  La  Robe  Noire. 

Then,  they  swore  by  everything,  from  the  sun 
and  the  moon  to  the  cow  in  the  meadow,  that 
they  were  not  responsible  for  the  doings  of  Le 
Grand  Diable,  who  was  an  Iroquois,  Moreoverj 
they  vowed  he  had  hurriedly  taken  his  departure 
for  the  north  four  days  before,  carrying  with  him 
the  Sioux  wife,  the  strange  woman  and  the  white 
child.  As  I  had  no  object  in  arousing  their  resent- 
ment, I  heard  their  words  without  voicing  my 
own  suspicions  and  giving  over  the  booty,  whiffed 
pipes  with  them.  But  I  had  no  intention  of  being 
tricked  by  the  rascally  Sioux,  and  while  they  and 
the  Mandanes  celebrated  the  peace  treaty,  I  sad- 
dled my  horse  and  spurred  off  for  their  encamp- 
ment, glad  to  see  the  last  of  a  region  where  I  had 
suffered  much  and  gained  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LAPLANTE   AND    I    RENEW   ACQUAINTANCE 

The  warriors  had  spoken  truth  to  the  Man- 
danes.  Le  Grand  Diable  was  not  in  the  Sioux 
lodges.  I  had  been  at  the  encampment  for 
almost  a  week,  daily  expecting  the  warriors'  re- 
turn, before  I  could  persuade  the  people  to  grant 
me  the  right  of  search  through  the  wigwams.  In 
the  end,  I  succeeded  only  through  artifice.  In- 
deed, I  was  becoming  too  proficient  in  craft  for 
the  maintenance  of  self-respect.  A  child — I  ex- 
plained to  the  surly  old  men  who  barred  my  way 
— had  been  confused  with  the  Sioux  slaves.  If 
it  were  among  their  lodges,  I  was  willing  to  pay 
well  for  its  redemption.  The  old  squaws,  eying 
me  distrustfully,  averred  I  had  come  to  steal  one 
of  their  naked  brats,  who  swarmed  on  my  tracks 
with  as  tantalizing  persistence  as  the  vicious  dogs. 
The  jealous  mothers  would  not  hear  of  my  search- 
ing the  tents.  Then  I  was  compelled  to  make 
friends  with  the  bevies  of  young  squaws,  who  ogle 
newcomers  to  the  Indian  camps.  Presently,  I 
gained  the  run  of  all  the  lodges.  Indeed,  I  needed 
not  a  little  diplomacy  to  keep  from  being  adopted 

as  son-in-law  by  one  pertinacious  old  fellow — a 
266 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     267 

kind  of  embarrassment  not  wholly  confined  to 
trappers  in  the  wilds.  But  not  a  trace  of  Diable 
and  his  captives  did  I  find. 

I  had  hobbled  my  horses— a  string  of  six — in  a 
valley  some  distance  from  the  camp  and  directly 
on  the  trail,  where  Little  Fellow  was  awaiting  me. 
Returning  from  a  look  at  their  condition  one 
evening,  I  heard  a  band  of  hunters  had  come 
from  the  Upper  Missouri.  I  was  sitting  with  a 
group  of  men  squatted  before  my  fatherly  Indian's 
lodge,  when  somebody  walked  up  behind  us  and 
gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

**  Mon  Dieu  !  Mine  frien*,  the  enemy !  Sacre- 
die!  Tishe!  Thou  cock-brained  idiot !  Ho — 
ho  !  Alone  among  the  Sioux!  "  came  the  aston- 
ished, half-breathless  exclamation  of  Louis 
Laplante,  mixing  his  English  and  French  as  he 
was  wont,  when  off  guard. 

Need  I  say  the  voice  brought  me  to  my  feet  at 
one  leap  ?  Well  I  remembered  how  I  had  left 
him  lying  with  a  snarl  between  his  teeth  in  the 
doorway  of  Fort  Douglas  !  Now  was  his  chance 
to  score  off  that  grudge !  I  should  not  have  been 
surprised  if  he  had  paid  me  with  a  stab  in  the  back. 

"What  for— come  you — here?"  he  slowly  de- 
manded, facing  me  with  a  revengeful  gleam  in  his 
eyes.  His  English  was  still  mixed.  There  was 
none  of  the  usual  light  and  airy  impudence  of  his 
manner. 

''  You  know  ver>^  well,  Louis,"  I  returned  with- 
out quailing.  ''Who  should  know  better  than 
you  ?     For  the  sake  of  the  old  days,  Louis,  help 


268  Lords  of  the  North 

to  undo  the  wrong  you  allowed?  Help  me  and 
before  Heaven  you  shall  command  your  own  price. 
Set  her  free !  Afterwards  torture  me  to  the  death 
and  take  your  full  pleasure !  " 

"  I'll  have  it,  anyway,"  retorted  Louis  with  a 
hard,  dry,  mirthless  laugh.  "  Know  they — what 
for — you  come?"  He  pointed  to  the  Indians, 
who  understood  not  a  word  of  our  talk  ;  and  we 
walked  a  pace  off  from  the  lodges. 

"  No  !  I'm  not  always  a  fool,  Louis,"  said  I, 
"  though  you  cheated  me  in  the  gorge  !  " 

"  See  those  stones?  "  There  was  a  pile  of  rock 
on  the  edge  of  the  ravine. 

"I  do.     What  of  them?" 

"  All  of  your  Indian — left  after  the  dogs — it  lie 
there!"  His  eye  questioned  mine;  but  there 
was  not  a  vestige  of  fear  in  me  towards  that 
boaster.  This,  I  set  down  not  vauntingly,  but 
fully  realizing  what  I  owe  to  Heaven. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  I.     "  That  was  cruel  work." 

"Your  other  man — he  fool  them " 

"  All  the  better,"  I  interrupted. 

"They  not  be  cheated  once  more  again!  No 
. — no — mine  frien' !  To  come  here,  alone  !  Ha 
— ha  !     Stupid  Anglo-Saxon  ox  !  " 

"  Don't  waste  your  breath,  Louis,"  I  quietly 
remarked.  "  Your  names  have  no  more  terror  for 
me  now  than  at  Laval !  However  biof  a  knave 
you  are,  Louis,  you're  not  a  fool.  Why  don't  you 
make  something  out  of  this?  I  can  reward  you. 
Hold  me,  if  you  like!  Scalp  me  and  skin  me  and 
put  me  under  a  stone-pile  for  revenge  !     Will  it 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     269 

make  your  revenge  any  sweeter  to  torture  a  help- 
less, white  woman  ? " 

Louis  winced.  Twas  the  first  sign  of  goodness 
I  had  seen  in  the  knave,  and  I  credited  it  wholly 
to  his  French  ancestors. 

''  I  never  torture  white  woman,"  he  vehemently 
declared,  with  a  sudden  flare-up  of  his  proud 
temper.     ''  The  son  of  a  seigneur " 

"  The  son  of  a  seigneur,"  I  broke  in,  ''  let  an 
innocent  woman  go  into  captivity  by  lying  to  me  !  " 

"  Don't  harp  on  that ! "  said  Louis  with  a 
scornful  laugh — a  laugh  that  is  ever  the  refuge  of 
the  cornered  liar.  "  You  pay  me  back  by  steal- 
ing despatches." 

'*  Don't  harp  on  that,  Louis  !  "  and  I  returned 
his  insolence  in  full  measure.  ''  I  didn't  steal 
your  despatches,  though  I  know  the  thief.  And 
you  paid  me  back  by  almost  trapping  me  at  Fort 
Douglas." 

"  But  I  didn't  succeed,"  exclaimed  Laplante. 
*'  Mon  Dieu  !  If  I  had  only  known  you  were  a 
spy! 

*'  I  wasn't.     I  came  to  see  Hamilton." 

"  And  you  pay  me  back  as  if  I  had  succeed,'* 
continued  Louis,  "  by  kicking  me — me — the  son 
of  a  seigneur — kicking  me  in  the  stomach  like  a 
pig,  which  is  no  fit  treatment  for  a  gentleman  !  " 

''  And  you  paid  me  back  by  sticking  your  knife 
in  my  boot " 

**  And  didn't  suceeed,"  broke  in  Louis  regret- 
fully. 

At  that,  we  both  laughed  in  spite   of  ourselves, 


270  Lords  of  the  North 

laughed  as  comrades.  And  the  laugh  brought 
back  memories  of  old  Laval  days,  when  we  used 
to  thrash  each  other  in  the  schoolyard,  but 
always  united  in  defensive  league,  when  we  were 
disciplined  inside  the  class-room. 

"  See  here,  old  crony,"  I  cried,  taking  quick 
advantage  of  his  sudden  softening  and  again  play- 
ing suppliant  to  my  adversary.  "  I  own  up  !  You 
owe  me  two  scores,  one  for  the  despatches  I  saw 
taken  from  you,  one  for  knocking  you  down  in 
Fort  Douglas  ;  for  your  knife  broke  and  did  not  cut 
me  a  whit.  Pay  those  scores  with  compound  in- 
terest, if  you  like,  the  way  you  used  to  pummel 
me  black  and  blue  at  Laval ;  but  help  me  now  as 
we  used  to  help  each  other  out  of  scrapes  at 
school  !  Afterwards,  do  as  you  wish  !  I  give  you 
full  leave.  As  the  son  of  a  seigneur,  as  a  gentle- 
man, Louis,  help  me  to  free  the  woman !  " 

'*  Pah  !  "  cried  Louis  with  mingled  contempt 
and  surrender.  "  I  not  punish  you  here  with  two 
thousand  against  one  !  Louis  Laplante  is  a  gen- 
tleman— even  to  his  enemy  !  " 

"  Bravo,  comrade !  "  I  shouted  out,  full  of 
gratitude,  and  I  thrust  forward  my  hand. 

"  No — no — thanks  much,"  and  Laplante  drew 
himself  up  proudly,  *'  not  till  I  pay  you  well, 
richly, — generous  always  to  mine  enemy !  " 

"  Very  good  !     Pay  when  and  where  you  will." 

"  Pay  how  I  like,"  snapped  Louis. 

With  that  strange  contract,  his  embarrassment 
seemed  to  vanish  and  his  English  came  back 
fluently. 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     271 

''You'd  better  leave  before  the  warriors  return," 
he  said.     ''  They  come  home  to-morrow  !  " 

"  Is  Diable  among  them  ?  " 

"  No." 

**  Is  Diable  here  ?  " 

"  No."     His  face  clouded  as  I  questioned. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

-No." 

*'  Will  he  be  back  ?  " 

"  Dammie !  How  do  I  know?  He  will  if  he 
wants  to  !  I  don't  tell  tales  on  a  man  who  saved 
my  life." 

His  answer  set  me  to  wondering  if  Diable  had 
seen  me  hold  back  the  trader's  murderous  hand, 
when  Louis  lay  drunk,  and  if  the  Frenchman's 
knowledge  of  that  incident  explained  his  strange 
generosity  now. 

*'  I'll  stay  here  in  spite  of  all  the  Sioux  warriors 
on  earth,  till  I  find  out  about  that  knave  of  an 
Indian  and  his  captives,"  I  vowed. 

Louis  looked  at  me  queerly  and  gave  another 
whistle. 

"  You  always  were  a  pig-head,"  said  he.  ''  I 
can  keep  them  from  harming  you ;  but  remem- 
ber, I  pay  you  back  in  your  own  coin.  And 
look  out  for  the  daughter  of  L'Aigle,  curse 
her  !  She  is  the  only  thing  I  ever  fear  !  Keep 
you    in    my   tent !      If    Le    Grand    Diable    see 

you "    and    Louis   touched   his   knife-handle 

significantly. 

"  Then  Diable  is  here !  " 

*'  I  not  say  so,"  but  he  flushed  at  the  sHp  of  his 


2/2  Lords  of  the  North 

tongue  and  moved  quickly  towards  what  appeared 
to  be  his  quarters. 

''He  is  coming?"  I  questioned,  suspicious  of 
Louis'  veracity. 

"  Dolt !  "  said  Louis.  "  Why  else  do  I  hide 
you  in  my  tent?  But  remember  I  pay  you  back 
in  your  own  coin  afterwards  !  Ha  !  There  they 
come ! 

A  shout  of  returning  hunters  arose  from  the 
ravine,  at  which  Louis  bounded  for  the  tent  on  a 
run,  dashing  inside  breathlessly,  I  following  close 
behind. 

"  Stay  you  here,  inside,  mind  !  Mon  Dieu  !  If 
you  but  show  your  face  ;  'tis  two  white  men  un- 
der one  stone-pile!  Louis  Laplante  is  a  fool — 
dammie — a  fool — to  help  you,  his  enemy,  or  any 
other  man  at  his  own  risk." 

With  these  enigmatical  words,  the  Frenchman 
hurried  out,  fastening  the  tent  flap  after  him  and 
leaving  me  to  reflect  on  the  wild  impulses  of  his 
wayward  nature.  Was  his  strange,  unwilling 
generosity  the  result  of  animosity  to  the  big 
squaw,  who  seemed  to  exercise  some  subtle  and 
commanding  influence  over  him  ;  or  of  gratitude 
to  me?  Was  the  noble  blood  that  coursed  in 
his  veins,  directing  him  in  spite  of  his  degenerate 
tendencies;  or  had  the  man's  heart  been  touched 
by  the  sight  of  a  white  woman's  suffering?  If 
his  alarm  at  the  sound  of  returning  hunters  had 
not  been  so  palpably  genuine — for  he  turned  pale 
to  the  lips — I  might  have  suspected  treachery. 
But  there  was  no  mistaking  the  motive  of  fear 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     273 

that  hurried  him  to  the  tent ;  and  with  Le  Grand 
Diable  among  the  hunters,  Louis  might  well  fear 
to  be  seen  in  my  company.  There  was  a  hub- 
bub of  trappers  returning  to  the  lodges.  I  heard 
horses  turned  free  and  tent-poles  clattering  to  the 
ground  ;  but  Laplante  did  not  come  back  till  it 
was  late  and  the  Indians  had  separated  for  the 
night. 

"  I  can  take  you  to  her !  "  he  whispered,  his 
voice  thrilling  with  suppressed  emotion.  "  Le 
Grand  Diable  and  the  squaw  have  gone  to  the 
valley  to  set  snares  !  And  when  I  whistle,  come 
out  quickly  !  Mon  Dieu  !  If  you're  caught,  both 
our  scalps  go!  Dammie !  Louis  is  a  fool.  I 
take  you  to  her  ;  but  I  pay  you  back  all  the  same  !  " 

"  To  whom?"  The  question  throbbed  with  a 
rush  to  my  lips. 

"  Stupid  dolt  !  "  snarled  Louis.  "  Follow  me  ! 
Keep  your  ears  open  for  my  whistle — one — they 
return — two — come  you  out  of  the  tent — three, 
we  are  caught,  save  yourself !  " 

I  followed  the  Frenchman  in  silence.  It  was  a 
hazy  summer  night  with  just  enough  light  from 
the  sickle  moon  for  us  to  pick  our  way  past  the 
lodges  to  a  large  newly-erected  wigwam  with  a 
small  white  tent  behind. 

"  This  way,'*  whispered  Louis,  leading  through 
the  first  to  an  opening  hidden  by  a  hanging  robe. 
Raising  the  skin,  he  shoved  me  forward  and 
hastened  out  to  keep  guard. 

The  figure  of  a  woman  with  a  child  in  her  arms 
was  silhouetted  against  the  white  tent  wall.     She 


274  Lords  of  the  North 

was  sitting  on  some  robes,  crooning  in  a  low  voice 
to  the  child,  and  was  unaware  of  my  presence. 

"And  was  my  little  Eric  at  the  hunt,  and  did 
he  shoot  an  arrow  all  by  himself?"  she  asked, 
fondling  the  face  that  snuggled  against  her 
shoulder. 

The  boy  gurgled  back  a  low,  happy  laugh  and 
lisped  some  childish  reply,  which  only  a  mother 
could  translate. 

"  And  he  will  grow  big,  big  and  be  a  great  war- 
rior and  fight — fight  for  his  poor  mother,"  she 
whispered,  lowering  her  voice  and  caressing  the 
child's  curls. 

The  little  fellow  sat  up  of  a  sudden  facing  his 
mother  and  struck  out  squarely  with  both  fists, 
not  uttering  a  word. 

"  My  brave,  brave  little  Eric  !  My  only  one, 
all  that  God  has  left  to  me  !  "  she  sobbed  hiding 
her  weeping  face  on  the  child's  neck.  *'  O  my 
God,  let  me  but  keep  my  little  one  !  Thou  hast 
given  him  to  me  and  I  have  treasured  him  as  a 
jewel  from  Thine  own  crown !  O  my  God,  let 
me  but  keep  my  darling,  keep  him  as  Thy  gift — 
and — and — O  my  God  I — Thy — Thy — Thy  will  be 
done !  " 

The  words  broke  in  a  moan  and  the  child  began 
to  cry. 

''  Hush,  dearie !  The  birds  never  cry,  nor  the 
beavers,  nor  the  great,  bold  eagle  !  My  own  lit- 
tle warrior  must  never  cry !  All  the  birds  and 
the  beasts  and  the  warriors  are  asleep  !  What 
does  Eric  say  before  he  goes  to  sleep  ?  " 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     275 

A  pair  of  chubby  arms  were  flung  about  her 
neck  and  passionate,  childish  kisses  pressed  her 
forehead  and  her  cheeks  and  her  Hps.  Then  he 
slipped  to  his  knees  and  put  his  face  in  her  lap. 

*'  God  bless  my  papa— and  keep  my  mamma — 
and  make  little  Eric  brave  and  good — for  Jesus' 
sake "  the  child  hesitated. 

''Amen,"  prompted  the  gentle  voice  of  the 
mother. 

"And  keep  little  Eric  for  my  mamma  so  she 
won't  cry,"  added  the  child,  ''  for  Jesus'  sake — 
Amen,"  and  he  scrambled  to  his  feet. 

A  low,  piercing  whistle  cut  the  night  air  like 
the  flight  of  an  arrow-shaft.  It  was  Louis  La- 
plante's  signal  that  Diable  and  the  squaw  were 
coming  back.  At  the  sound,  mother  and  child 
started  up  in  alarm.  Then  they  saw  me  standing 
in  the  open  way.  A  gasp  of  fright  came  from 
the  white  woman's  lips.  I  could  tell  from  her 
voice  that  she  was  all  a-tremble,  and  the  little  one 
began  to  whimper  in  a  smothered,  suppressed 
way. 

I  whispered  one  word — ''  ]\Iiriam  !  " 

With  a  faint  cry  of  anguish,  she  leaped  for- 
ward. "  Is  it  you,  Eric  ?  0  Eric  !  is  it  you  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No — no,  Miriam,  not  Eric,  but  Eric's  friend, 
Rufus  Gillespie." 

She  tottered  as  if  I  had  struck  her.  I  caught 
her  in  my  arms  and  helped  her  to  the  couch 
of  robes. 

Then  I  took  up  my  station  facing  the  tent  en- 


276  Lords  of  the  North 

trance  ;  for  I  realized  the  significance  of  Laplante's 
warning. 

**  We  have  hunted  for  more  than  a  year  for 
you,"  I  whispered,  bending  over  her,  ''  but  the 
Sioux  murdered  our  messenger  and  the  other 
you  yourself  let  out  of  the  tent  !" 

"  That — your  messenger  for  me  ?  "  she  asked  in 
sheer  amazement,  proving  what  I  had  suspected, 
that  she  was  kept  in  ignorance  of  our  efforts. 

"  I  have  been  here  for  a  week,  searching  the 
lodges.  My  horses  are  in  the  valley,  and  we 
must  dare  all  in  one  attempt." 

"  I  have  given  my  word  I  will  not  try,"  she 
hastily  interrupted,  beginning  to  pluck  at  her  red 
shawl  in  the  frenzied  way  of  delirious  fever  pa- 
tients. "  If  we  are  caught,  they  will  torture  us, 
torture  the  child  before  my  eyes.  They  treat 
him  well  now  and  leave  me  alone  as  long  as  I  do 
not  try  to  break  away.  What  can  you,  one  man, 
do  against  two  thousand  Sioux?"  and  she  began 
to  weep,  choking  back  the  anguished  sobs,  that 
shook  her  slender  frame,  and  picking  feverishly 
at  the  red  shawl  fringe. 

To  look  at  that  agonized  face  would  have  been 
sacrilege,  and  in  a  helpless,  nonplussed  way,  I 
kept  gazing  at  the  painful  workings  of  the  thin, 
frail  fingers.  That  plucking  of  the  wasted,  trem- 
bling hands  haunts  me  to  this  day;  and  never  do 
I  see  the  fingers  of  a  nervous,  sensitive  woman 
working  in  that  delirious,  aimless  fashion  but  it 
sets  me  wondering  to  what  painful  treatment  from 
a  brutalized  nature  she  has  been  subjected,  that 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     277 

her  hands  take  on  the  tricks  of  one  in  the  last 
stages  of  disease.  It  may  be  only  the  fancy  of 
an  old  trader  :  but  I  dare  avow,  if  any  sympa- 
thetic observer  takes  note  of  this  simple  trick  of 
nervous  fingers,  it  will  raise  the  veil  on  more 
domestic  tragedies  and  heart-burnings  than  any 
father-confessor  hears  in  a  year. 

"  Miriam,"  said  I,  in  answer  to  her  timid  pro- 
test, "  Eric  has  risked  his  life  seeking  you. 
Won't  you  tn,- all  for  Eric's  sake?  There'll  be 
little  risk  I  We'll  wait  for  a  dark,  boisterous, 
stormy  night,  and  you  will  roll  out  of  your  tent 
the  way  you  thrust  my  Indian  out.  I'll  have  my 
horses  ready.  I'll  creep  up  behind  and  whisper 
through  the  tent." 

"  Where  is  Eric  ? "  she  asked,  beginning  to 
waver. 

Two  shrill,  sharp  whistles  came  from  Louis 
Laplante,  commanding  me  to  come  out  of  the 
tent. 

"  That's  my  signal  I  I  must  go.  Quick,  Mir- 
iam, will  you  tr>''  ?  " 

•'  I  will  do  what  you  wish,"  she  answered,  so 
low,  I  had  to  kneel  to  catch  the  words. 

''  A  stormy  night  our  signal,  then,"  I  cried. 

Three,  sharp,  terrified  whistles,  signifying,  *'  We 
are  caught,  save  yourself,"  came  from  Laplante, 
and  I  flung  myself  on  the  ground  behind 
Miriam. 

"■  Spread  out  your  arms,  Miriam  !  Quick  !  "  I 
urged.     ''  Talk  to  the  boy,  or  we're  trapped." 

With  her  shawl  spread  out  full  and  her  elbows 


278  Lords  of  the  North 

sticking  akimbo,  she  caught  the  lad  in  her  arms 
and  began  dandHng  him  to  right  and  left,  hum- 
ming some  nursery  ditty.  At  the  same  moment 
there  loomed  in  the  tent  entrance  the  great, 
statuesque  figure  of  the  Sioux  squaw,  whom  I  had 
seen  in  the  gorge.  I  kicked  my  feet  under  the 
canvas  wall,  while  Miriam's  swaying  shawl  com- 
pletely concealed  me  from  the  Sioux  woman  and 
thus  I  crawled  out  backwards.  Then  I  lay  out- 
side the  tent  and  listened,  listened  with  my  hand 
on  my  pistol  ;  for  what  might  not  that  monster 
of  fury  attempt  with  the  tender,  white  woman? 

"  There  were  words  in  the  tepee,"  declared  the 
angry  tones  of  the  Indian  woman.  "The  pale 
face  was  talking  !  Where  is  the  messenger  from 
the  ^landanes?  " 

At  that,  the  little  child  set   up  a  bitter  crying. 

"  Cr}'  not,  my  little  warrior !  Hush,  dearie ! 
'Twas  only  a  hunter  whistling,  or  the  night  hawk, 
or  the  raccoon !  Hush,  little  Eric !  Warriors 
never  cryr  \  Hush !  Hush  I  Or  the  great  bear 
will  laugh  at  you  and  tell  his  cubs  he's  found  a 
coward  !  "  crooned  Miriam,  making  as  though  she 
neither  heard,  nor  saw  the  squaw  ;  but  Eric  opened 
his  mouth  and  roared  lustily.  And  the  little  lad 
unconsciously  foiled  the  squaw;  for  she  presently 
took  herself  off,  evidently  thinking  the  voices  had 
been  those  of  mother  and  son. 

I  skirted  cautiously  around  the  rear  of  the 
lodges  to  avoid  encountering  Diable,  or  his  squaw. 
The  form  of  a  man  hulked  against  me  in  the 
dark.     'Twas  Louis. 


Laplante  and  I  Renew  Acquaintance     279 

'^  Mon  Dieu,  Gillespie,  I  thought  one  scalp  was 
gone,"  he  gasped. 

''  What  are  you  here  for  ?  You  don't  want  to 
be  seen  with  me,"  I  protested,  grateful  and 
alarmed  for  his  foolhardiness  in  coming  to  meet 

me. 

''Sacredie!  The  dogs!  They  make  pretty 
music  at  your  shins  without  me,"  and  Louis  struck 
boldly  across  the  open  for  his  tent.  ''  Fool  to 
stay  so  long!"  he  muttered.  "  I  no  more  ever 
help  you  once  again  I  Mon  Dieu  !  No  !  I  no 
promise  my  scalp  too  I  They  found  your  horses 
in  the  valley  !  They — how  you  say  it  ? — think 
for  some  Mandane  is  here  and  fear.  They  rode 
back  fast  on  your  horses.  Twas  why  I  whistle 
for,  twice  so  quick  I  They  ride  north  in  the 
morning.  I  go  too,  with  the  devil  and  his  wife  ! 
I  be  gone  to  the  devil  this  many  a  while  I  But  I 
must  go,  or  they  suspect  and  knife  me.  That 
vampire  !  Ha  !  she  would  drink  my  gore  !  I  no 
more  have  nothing  to  do  with  you.  Before 
morning,  you  must  do  your  own  do  alone  ! 
Sacredie  I     Do  not  forget,  I  pay  you  back  yet  !  " 

So  he  rattled  on,  ever  keeping  between  me  and 
the  lodges.  By  his  confused  words,  I  knew  he 
was  in  great  trepidation. 

"  Why,  there  are  my  horses  ! "  I  exclaimed, 
seeing  all  six  standing  before  Diable's  lodge. 

''  You  do  your  do  before  morning  I  Take  one 
of  my  saddles  !  "  said  Louis. 

Sure  enough,  all  my  saddles  were  piled  before 
the  Iroquois'  wig^vam  ;  and  there  stood  my  enemy 


28o  Lords  of  the  North 

and  the  Sioux  squaw,  talking  loudly,  pointing  to 
the  horses  and  gesticulating  with  violence. 

*^  Mon  Dieu  !  Prenez  garde  !  Get  you  in  !  " 
muttered  Louis.  We  were  at  his  tent  door,  and 
I  was  looking  back  at  my  horses.  *'  If  they  see 
you,  all  is  lost,"  he  warned. 

And  the  warning  came  just  in  time.  With 
that  animal  instinct  of  nearness,  which  is  neither 
sight,  nor  smell,  my  favorite  broncho  put  forward 
his  ears  and  whinnied  sharply.  Both  Diable  and 
the  squaw  noted  the  act  and  turned  ;  but  Louis 
had  knocked  me  forward  face  down  into  the 
tent. 

With  an  oath,  he  threw  himself  on  his  couch. 
"  Take  my  saddle,"  he  said.  '*  I  steal  another. 
Do  your  do  before  morning.  I  no  more  have 
nothing  to  do  with  you,  till  I  pay  you  back  all 
the  same  ! " 

And  he  was  presently  fast  asleep,  or  pretending 
to  be. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEREIN   LOUIS   INTRIGUES 

Next  morning  Le  Grand  Diable  would  set  out 
for  the  north.  This  night,  then,  was  my  last 
chance  to  rescue  Miriam.  ''  Do  your  do  before 
morning!"  How  Laplante's  words  echoed  in 
my  ears  !  I  had  told  Miriam  a  stormy  night  was 
to  be  the  signal  for  our  attempt ;  and  now  the 
rising  moon  was  dispelling  any  vague  haziness 
that  might  have  helped  to  conceal  us.  In  an 
hour,  the  whole  camp  would  be  bright  as  day 
in  clear,  silver  light.  Presently,  the  clatter  of  the 
lodges  ceased.  Only  an  occasional  snarl  from  the 
dogs,  or  the  angry  squeals  of  my  bronchos  kick- 
ing the  Indian  ponies,  broke  the  utter  stillness. 
There  was  not  even  a  wind  to  drown  foot-treads, 
and  ever\'  lodge  of  the  camp  was  reflected  across 
the  ground  in  elongated  shadows  as  distinct  as 
a  crayon  figure  on  white  paper.  What  if  some 
watchful  Indian  should  discover  our  moving  shad- 
ows? La  Robe  Noire's  fate  flashed  back  and 
I  shuddered. 

Flinging    up    impatiently    from    the    robes,    I 

looked    from    the   tent  way.     Some   dog  of  the 

pack  gave  the  short,  sharp  bark  of  a  fox.     Then, 

but  for  the  crunching  of  my  horses  over  the  turf 

281 


282  Lords  of  the  North 

some  yards  away,  there  was  silence.  I  could  hear 
the  heavy  breathing  of  people  in  near-by  lodges. 
Up  from  the  wooded  valley  came  the  far-off  purr 
of  a  stream  over  stony  bottom  and  the  low  wash- 
ing sound  only  accentuated  the  stillness.  The 
shrill  cry  of  some  lonely  night-bird  stabbed  the 
atmosphere  with  a  throb  of  pain.  Again  the  dog 
snapped  out  a  bark  and  again  there  was  utter 
quiet. 

"  One  chance  in  a  thousand,"  said  I  to  myself, 
"  only  one  in  a  thousand  ;  but  I'll  take  it !  "  And 
I  stepped  from  the  tent.  This  time  the  wakeful 
dog  let  out  a  mouthful  of  quick  barkings.  Jerk- 
ing off  my  boots — I  had  not  yet  taken  to  the 
native  custom  of  moccasins — I  dodged  across  the 
roadway  into  the  exaggerated  shadow  of  some 
Indian  camj)  truckery.  Here  I  fell  flat  to  the 
ground  so  that  no  reflection  should  betray  my 
movements.  Then  I  remembered  I  had  forgot- 
ten Louis  Laplante's  saddle.  Rising,  I  dived 
back  to  the  tepee  for  it  and  waited  for  the  dogs 
to  quiet  before  coming  out  again.  That  alert 
canine  had  set  up  a  duet  with  a  neighboring  brute 
of  like  restless  instincts  and  the  two  seemed  to 
promise  an  endless  chorus.  As  I  live,  I  could 
have  sworn  that  Louis  Laplante  laughed  in  his 
sleep  at  my  dilemma ;  but  Louis  was  of  the  sort 
to  laugh  in  the  face  of  death  itself.  A  man  flew 
from  a  lodge  and  dealing  out  stout  blows  quickly 
silenced  the  vicious  curs ;  but  I  had  to  let  time 
lapse  for  the  man  to  go  to  sleep  before  I  could 
venture  out. 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  283 

Once  more,  chirp  of  cricket,  croak  of  frog  and 
the  rush  of  waters  through  the  valley  were  the 
only  sounds,  and  I  darted  across  to  the  camp 
shadow.  Lying  flat,  I  began  to  crawl  cautiously 
and  laboriously  towards  my  horses.  One  gave  a 
startled  snort  as  I  approached  and  this  set  the 
dogs  going  again.  I  lay  motionless  in  the  grass 
till  all  was  quiet  and  then  crept  gently  round  to 
the  far  side  of  my  favorite  horse  and  caught  his 
halter  strap  lest  he  should  whinny,  or  start  away. 
I  drew  erect  directly  opposite  his  shoulders,  so 
that  I  could  not  be  seen  from  the  lodges  and 
unhobbling  his  feet,  led  him  into  the  concealment 
of  a  group  of  ponies  and  had  the  saddle  on  in  a 
trice.  To  get  the  horse  to  the  rear  of  Miriam's 
tent  was  no  easy  matter.  I  paced  my  steps  so 
deftly  with  the  broncho's  and  let  him  munch 
grass  so  often,  the  most  watchful  Indian  could 
not  have  detected  a  man  on  the  far  side  of  the 
horse,  directing  every  move.  Behind  the  Sioux 
lodge,  the  earth  sloped  abruptly  away,  bare  and 
precipitous ;  and  I  left  the  horse  below  and  clam- 
bered up  the  steep  to  the  white  wall  of  Miriam's 
tent.  Once  the  dogs  threatened  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance, but  a  man  quieted  them,  and  witli  grati- 
tude I  recognized  the  voice  of  Laplante. 

Three  times  I  tapped  on  the  canvas  but  there 
was  no  response.  I  put  my  arm  under  the  tent 
and  rapped  on  the  ground.  Why  did  she  not 
signal?  Was  the  Sioux  squaw  from  the  other 
lodge  listening?  I  could  hear  nothing  but  the 
tossings  of  the  child. 


284  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Miriam,"  I  called,  shoving  my  arm  forward 
and  feeling  out  blindly. 

Thereupon,  a  woman's  hand  grasped  mine  and 
thrust  it  out,  while  a  voice  so  low  it  might  have 
been  the  night  breeze  came  to  my  ear — ''  We  are 
watched." 

Watched?  What  did  it  matter  if  we  were? 
Had  I  not  dared  all  ?  Must  not  she  do  the 
same  ?  This  was  the  last  chance.  We  must  not 
be  foiled.  My  horse,  I  knew,  could  outrace  any 
cayuse  of  the  Sioux  band. 

"  Miriam,"  I  whispered  back,  lifting  the  canvas, 
"  they  will  take  you  away  to-morrow — my  horse 
is  here  !     Come  !     We  must  risk  all !  " 

And  I  shoved  myself  bodily  in  under  the  tent 
wall.  She  was  not  a  hand's  length  away,  sitting 
with  her  face  to  the  entrance  of  Diable's  lodge, 
her  figure  rigid  and  tense  with  fear.  In  the  half 
light  I  could  discern  the  great,  powerful,  angular 
form  of  a  giantess  in  the  opening.  'Twas  the 
Sioux  squaw.  Miriam  leaned  forward  to  cover 
the  child  with  a  motion  intended  to  conceal  me, 
and  I  drew  quickly  out. 

I  thought  I  had  not  been  detected  ;  but  the 
situation  was  perilous  enough,  in  all  conscience, 
to  inspire  caution,  and  I  was  backing  away,  when 
suddenly  the  shadows  of  two  men  coming  from 
opposite  sides  appeared  on  the  white  tent,  and 
something  sprang  upon  me  with  tigerish  fury. 
There  was  the  swish  of  an  unsheathing  blade, 
and  I  felt  rather  than  saw  Le  Grand  Diable  and 
Louis  Laplante  contesting  over  me. 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  285 

"Never!  He's  mine,  my  captive!  He  stole 
my  saddle  !  He's  mine,  1  tell  you,"  ground  out 
the  Frenchman,  throwing  off  my  assailant. 
*'  Keep  him  for  the  warriors  and  let  him  be  tor- 
tured," urged  Louis,  snatching  at  the  Indian's 
arm. 

I  sprang  up.  It  was  Louis,  who  tripped  my 
feet  from  under  me,  and  we  two  tumbled  to  the 
bottom  of  the  cliff,  while  the  Indian  stood  above 
snarling  out  something  in  the  Sioux  tongue. 

"  Idiot  !  Anglo-Saxon  ox  !  "  muttered  Louis, 
grappling  with  me  as  we  fell.  "  Do  but  act  it 
out,  or  two  scalps  go  !  I  no  promise  mine  when 
I  say  I  help  you,  bah " 

That  was  the  last  I  recall ;  for  I  went  down 
head  backwards,  and  the  blow  knocked  me 
senseless. 

When  I  came  to,  with  an  aching  neck  and  a 
humming  in  my  ears,  there  was  the  gray  light  of 
a  waning  moon,  and  I  found  myself  lying  bound 
in  Miriam's  tent.  Her  child  was  whimpering 
timidly  and  she  was  hurriedly  gathering  her 
belongings  into  a  small  bundle. 

"Miriam,  what  has  happened?"  I  asked. 
Then  the  whole  struggle  and  failure  came  back 
to  me  with  an  overwhelming  realization  that  tor- 
ture and  death  would  be  our  portion. 

"  Try  no  more,"  she  whispered,  brushing  past 
me  and  making  as  though  she  v/ere  gathering 
things  where  I  lay.  "  Never  tiy,  for  my  sake, 
never  try!  They  will  torture  you.  I  shall  die 
soon.    Only  save  the  child  !    For  myself,  I  am  past 


286  Lords  of  the  North 

caring.  Good-by  forever  !  "  and  she  dashed  to 
the  other  side  of  the  tent. 

At  that,  with  a  deal  of  noisy  mirth,  in  burst 
Laplante  and  the  Sioux  squaw. 

"  Ho-ho !  My  knight-errant  has  opened  his 
eyes  !  Great  sport  for  the  braves,  say  I  !  Fine 
mouse-play  for  the  cat,  ho-ho  !  "  and  Louis  looked 
down  at  me  with  laughing  insolence,  that  sent  a 
chill  through  my  veins.  'Twas  to  save  his  own 
scalp  the  rascal  was  acting  and  would  have  me 
act  too ;  but  I  had  no  wish  to  betray  him. 
Striking  at  her  captives  and  rudely  ordering  them 
out,  the  Sioux  led  the  way  and  left  Louis  to 
bring  up  the  rear. 

''Leave  this,  lady,"  said  Louis  with  an  air  that 
might  have  been  impudence  or  gallantry ;  and  he 
grabbed  the  bundle  from  Miriam's  hand  and 
threw  it  over  his  shoulder  at  me.  This  was 
greeted  with  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  Sioux 
woman  and  one  look  of  unspeakable  reproach 
from  Miriam.  Whistling  gaily  and  turning  back 
to  wink  at  me,  the  Frenchman  disappeared  in 
Diable's  lodge.  P'or  my  part,  I  was  puzzled. 
Did  Louis  act  from  the  love  of  acting  and  trick- 
ery and  intrigue  ?  Was  he  befooling  the  daugh- 
ter of  L'Aigle,  or  me? 

They  tore  down  Diable's  tepee,  stringing  the 
poles  on  the  bronchos  stolen  from  me  and  leaving 
Miriam's  white  tent  with  the  Sioux.  I  saw  them 
mount  with  my  horses  to  the  fore,  and  they  set 
out  at  a  sharp  trot.  From  the  hoof-beats,  I 
should  judge  they  had   not  gone    many   paces, 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  287 

when  one  rider  seemed  to  turn  back,  and  Louis 
ran  into  the  tent  where  I  lay.  I  did  not  utter 
one  word  of  pleading ;  but  as  he  stooped  for 
Miriam's  bundle,  he  whisked  out  a  jack-knife 
and  my  heart  bounded  with  a  great  hope.  I 
suppose,  involuntarily,  I  must  have  lifted  my 
arms  to  have  the  bonds  severed  ;  for  Laplante 
shook  his  head. 

''  No — mine  frien' — not  now — I  not  scalp 
Louis  Laplante  for  your  sake, — no,  never.  Use 
your  teeth — so  !  "  said  he,  laying  the  blade  of  the 
knife  in  his  own  teeth  to  show  me  how  ;  and  he 
slipped  the  thing  into  hiding  under  my  armpits. 
"■  The  warriors — they  come  back  to-day,"  he 
warned.  "  You  wait  till  we  are  far,  then  cut  quick, 
or  they  do  worse  to  you  than  to  La  Robe  Noire  ! 
I  leave  one  horse  for  you  in  the  valley  beyond  the 
beaver-dam.  Tra-la,  comrade,  but  not  forget  you. 
I  pay  3^ou  back  yet  all  the  same,"  and  with  a 
whistle,  he  had  vanished. 

I  hung  upon  the  Frenchman's  words  as  a  drown- 
ing sailor  to  a  life-line,  and  heard  the  hoof-beats 
grow  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distance,  hardly 
daring  to  realize  the  fearful  peril  in  which  I  lay. 
By  the  light  at  the  tent  opening,  I  knew  it  was 
daybreak.  Already  the  Sioux  were  stirring  in 
their  lodges  and  naked  urchins  came  to  the  en- 
trance to  hoot  and  pelt  mud.  Somehow,  I  got 
into  sitting  posture,  with  my  head  bowed  forward 
on  my  arms,  so  I  could  use  the  knife  without 
being  seen.  At  that,  the  impertinent  brats  be- 
came bolder  and  swarming  into  the  tent  began 


288  Lords  of  the  North 

poking  sticks.  I  held  my  arm  closer  to  my  side, 
and  felt  the  hard  steel's  pressure  with  a  pleasure 
not  to  be  marred  by  that  tantalizing  horde.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  gathering  hubbub  outside.  In- 
dians, squaws  and  children  were  rushing  in  the 
direction  of  the  trail  to  the  Mandanes.  The 
children  in  my  tent  forgot  me  and  dashed  out 
with  the  rest.  I  could  not  doubt  the  cause  of  the 
clamor.  This  was  the  morning  of  the  warriors' 
return  ;  and  getting  the  knife  in  my  teeth,  I  be- 
gan filing  furiously  at  the  ropes  about  my  wrists. 
Man  is  not  a  rodent ;  but  under  stress  of  necessity 
and  with  instruments  of  his  own  designing,  he 
can  do  something  to  remedy  his  human  help- 
lessness. To  the  din  of  clamoring  voices  outside 
were  added  the  shouts  of  approaching  warriors, 
the  galloping  of  a  multitude  of  horses  and  the 
whining  yells  of  countless  dogs. 

While  all  the  Sioux  were  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  encampment,  I  might  yet  escape  unobserved, 
but  the  returning  braves  were  very  near.  Put- 
ting all  my  strength  in  my  wrists,  I  burst  the  half- 
cut  bonds  ;  and  the  rest  was  easy.  A  slash  of 
the  knife  and  my  feet  were  free  and  I  had  rolled 
down  the  cliff  and  was  running  with  breathless 
haste  over  fallen  logs,  under  leafy  coverts,  across 
noisy  creeks,  through  the  wooded  valley  to  the 
beaver  dam.  How  long,  or  how  far,  I  ran  in  this 
desperate,  heedless  fashion,  I  do  not  know.  The 
branches,  that  reached  out  like  the  hands  of  pur- 
suers, caught  and  ripped  my  clothing  to  shreds. 
I  had  been  bootless,  when  I  started  ;  but  my  feet 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  289 

were  now  bare  and  bleeding.  A  gleam  of  water 
flashed  through  the  green  foliage.  This  must  be 
the  river,  with  the  beaver-dam,  and  to  my  eager 
eyes,  the  stream  already  appeared  muddy  and 
sluggish  as  if  obstructed.  I\Iy  heart  was  beating 
with  a  sensation  of  painful,  bursting  blows. 
There  was  a  roaring  in  my  ears,  and  at  every  step 
I  took,  the  landscape  swam  black  before  me  and 
the  trees  racing  into  the  back  ground  staggered  on 
each  side  like  drunken  men.  Then  I  knew  that 
I  had  reached  the  limit  of  my  strength  and  with 
the  domed  mud-tops  of  the  beaver-dam  in  sight 
half  a  mile  to  the  fore,  I  sank  down  to  rest.  The 
river  was  marshy,  weed-grown  and  brown  ;  but  I 
gulped  down  a  drink  and  felt  breath  returning 
and  the  labored  pulse  easing.  Not  daring  to 
pause  long,  I  went  forward  at  a  slackened  rate, 
knowing  I  must  husband  my  strength  to  swim 
or  wade  across  the  river.  Was  it  the  apprehension 
of  fear,  or  the  buzzing  in  my  ears,  that  suggested 
the  faint,  far-away  echo  of  a  clamoring  multitude  ? 
I  stopped  and  listened.  There  was  no  sound  but 
the  lapping  of  water,  or  rush  of  wind  through 
the  leaves.  I  went  on  again  at  hastened  pace, 
and  distinctly  down  the  valley  came  echo  of  the 
Sioux  war-whoop. 

I  was  pursued.  There  was  no  mistaking  that 
fact,  and  with  a  thrill,  which  I  have  no  hesitancy 
in  confessing  was  the  most  intense  fear  I  have 
ever  experienced  in  my  life,  I  broke  into  a  ter- 
rified, panic-stricken  run.  The  river  grew  dark, 
sluggish  and  treacherous-looking.     By  the  blood 


290  Lords  of  the  North 

flowing  from  my  feet,  Indian  scouts  could  track 
me  for  leagues.  I  looked  to  the  river  with  the 
vague  hope  of  running  along  the  water  bed  to 
throw  my  pursuers  off  the  trail ;  but  the  water 
was  deep  and  I  had  not  strength  to  swim.  The 
beaver-dam  was  huddled  close  to  the  clay  bank 
of  the  far  side  and  on  the  side,  where  I  ran,  the 
current  spread  out  in  a  flaggy  marsh.  Hoping 
to  elude  the  Sioux,  I  plunged  in  and  floundered 
blindly  forward.  But  blood  trails  marked  the 
pond  behind  and  the  soft  ooze  snared  my  feet. 
I  was  now  opposite  the  beaver-dam  and  saw 
with  horror  there  were  branches  enough  floating 
in  mid-stream  to  entangle  the  strongest  swimmer. 
The  shouts  of  my  pursuers  sounded  nearer.  They 
could  not  have  known  how  close  they  were  upon 
me,  else  had  they  ambushed  me  in  silence  after 
Indian  custom,  shouting  only  when  they  sighted 
their  quarry.  The  river  was  not  tempting  for  a 
fagged,  breathless  swimmer,  whose  dive  must  be 
short  and  sorry.  I  had  nigh  counted  my  earthly 
course  run,  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  hollow, 
punky  tree-trunk  standing  high  above  the  bank. 
I  could  hear  the  swiftest  runners  behind  splash- 
ing through  the  marsh  bed.  Now  the  thick  wil- 
low-bush screened  me,  but  in  a  few  moments  they 
would  be  on  my  very  heels.  With  the  supernat- 
ural strength  of  a  last  desperate  effort,  I  bounded 
to  the  empty  trunk  and  like  some  hounded,  treed 
creature,  clambered  up  inside,  digging  my 
wounded  feet  into  the  soft,  wet  wood-rot  and 
burrowing  naked  fingers  through  the  punk  of  the 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  291 

rounded  sides  till  I  was  twice  the  height  of  a  man 
above  the  blackened  opening  at  the  base.  Then 
a  piece  of  wood  crumbled  in  my  right  hand. 
Daylight  broke  through  the  trunk  and  I  found 
that  I  had  grasped  the  edge  of  a  rotted  knot-hole. 

Bracing  my  feet  across  beneath  me  like  tie  beams 
of  raftered  scaffolding,  I  craned  up  till  my  eye 
was  on  a  level  with  the  knot-hole  and  peered 
down  through  my  lofty  lookout.  Either  the 
shouting  of  the  Sioux  warriors  had  ceased,  which 
indicated  they  had  found  my  tracks  and  knew 
they  were  close  upon  me,  or  my  shelter  shut  out 
the  sound  of  approaching  foes.  I  broke  more 
bark  from  the  hole  and  gained  full  view  of  the 
scene  below. 

A  crested  savage  ran  out  from  the  tangled 
foliage  of  the  river  bank,  saw  the  turgid  settlings 
of  the  rippling  marsh,  where  I  had  been  flounder- 
ing, and  darted  past  my  hiding-place  with  a  shrill 
yell  of  triumph.  Instantaneously  the  woods 
were  ringing,  echoing  and  re-echoing  with  the 
hoarse,  wild  war-cries  of  the  Sioux.  Band  after 
band  burst  from  the  leafy  covert  of  forest  and 
marsh  willows,  and  dashed  in  full  pursuit  after 
the  leading  Indian.  Some  of  the  braves  still 
wore  the  buckskin  toggery  of  their  visit  to  the 
Mandanes  ;  but  the  swiftest  runners  had  cast  off 
all  clothing  and  tore  forward  unimpeded.  The 
last  coppery  form  disappeared  among  the  trees  of 
the  river  bank  and  the  shoutings  w^ere  growing 
fainter,  when,  suddenly,  there  was  such  an  omi- 
nous calm,  I  knew  they  were  foiled. 


292  Lords  of  the  North 

Would  they  return  to  the  last  marks  of  my 
trail?  That  thought  sent  the  blood  from  my 
head  with  a  rush  that  left  me  dizzy,  weak  and 
shivering.  I  looked  to  the  river.  The  floating 
branches  turned  lazily  over  and  over  to  the  lapping 
of  the  sluggish  current,  and  the  green  slime  ooz- 
ing from  the  clustered  beaver  lodges  of  the  far 
side  might  hide  either  a  miry  bottom,  or  a  treach- 
erous hole. 

A  naked  Indian  came  pattering  back  through 
the  brush,  looking  into  every  hollow  log,  under 
fallen  trees,  through  clumps  of  shrub  growth,  where 
a  man  might  hide,  and  into  the  swampy  riverbed. 
It  was  only  a  matter  of  time  when  he  would  reach 
my  hiding-place.  Should  I  wait  to  be  smoked 
out  of  my  hole,  like  a  badger,  or  a  raccoon  ? 
Again  I  looked  hopelessly  to  the  river.  A  choice 
of  deaths  seemed  my  only  fate.  Torture,  burn- 
ing, or  the  cool  wash  of  a  black  wave  gurgling  over 
one's  head  ? 

A  broad-girthed  log  lay  in  theswamp  and  stretched 
out  over  mid-stream  in  a  way  that  would  give  a 
quick  diver  at  least  a  good,  clean,  clear  leap.  A 
score  more  savages  had  emerged  from  the  woods 
and  were  eagerly  searching,  from  the  limbs  of 
trees  above,  where  I  might  be  perched,  to  the 
black  river-bed  below.  However  much  I  may 
vacillate  between  two  courses,  once  my  decision 
is  taken,  I  have  ever  been  swift  to  act ;  and  I 
slipped  down  the  tree-trunk  with  the  bound  of  a 
bullet  through  a  gun-barrel,  took  one  last  look 
from  the  opening,  which  revealed  pursuers  not 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  293 

fifty  yards  away,  plunged  through  the  marsh, 
dashed  to  the  fallen  log  and  made  a  rush  to  the 
end. 

A  score  of  brazen  throats  screeched  out  their 
baffled  rage.  There  was  a  twanging  of  bow-strings. 
The  humming  of  arrow  flight  sung  about  my  head. 
I  heard  the  crash  of  some  savage  blazing  away 
with  his  old  flintlock.  A  deep-drawn  breath,  and 
I  was  cleaving  the  air.  Then  the  murky,  greenish 
waters  splashed  in  my  face,  opened  wide  and 
closed  over  me. 

A  tangle  of  green  was  at  the  soft,  muddy  bot- 
tom. Something  living,  slippery,  silky  and  furr}% 
that  was  neither  fish,  norwater  snake,  got  between 
my  feet ;  but  countless  arrows,  I  knew,  were  aimed 
and  ready  for  me,  when  I  came  to  the  surface. 
So  I  held  down  for  what  seemed  an  interminable 
time,  though  it  was  only  a  few  seconds,  struck  for 
the  far  shore,  and  presently  felt  the  green  slime  of 
the  upper  water  matting  in  my  hair. 

Every  swimmer  knows  that  rich,  sweet,  full  in- 
take of  life-giving  air  after  a  long  dive.  I  drew  in 
deep,  fresh  breaths  and  tried  to  blink  the  slime 
from  my  eyes  and  get  my  bearings.  There  were 
the  bowlings  of  baffled  wolves  from  what  was  now 
the  far  side  of  the  river  bank  ;  but  domed  clay 
mounds,  mossy,  floating  branches  and  a  world  of 
w^illows  shrubs  were  about  my  head.  Then  I 
knew  what  the  furry  thing  among  the  tangle  at 
the  river  bottom  was,  and  realized  that  I  had 
come  up  among  the  beaver  lodges.  The  dam 
must  have  been  an  old  one ;  for  the  clay  houses 


294  Lords  of  the  North 

were  all  overgrown  with  moss  and  water-weeds. 
A  perfect  network  of  willow  growth  interlaced  the 
different  lodges. 

I  heard  the  splash  as  of  a  diver  from  the  oppo- 
site side.  Was  it  a  beaver,  or  my  Indian  pur- 
suers? Then  I  could  distinctly  make  out  the 
strokes  of  some  one  swimming  and  splashing 
about.  My  foes  were  determined  to  have  me, 
dead,  or  alive.  I  ducked  under,  found  shallow, 
soft  bottom,  half  paddled,  half  waded,  a  pace 
more  shoreward,  and  came  up  with  my  head  in 
utter  darkness. 

Where  was  I  ?  I  drew  breath.  Yes,  assuredly, 
I  was  above  water  ;  but  the  air  was  fetid  with 
heavy,  animal  breath  and  teeth  snarled  shut  in  my 
very  face.  Somehow,  I  had  come  up  through  the 
broken  bottom  of  an  old  beaver  lodge  and  was 
now  in  the  lair  of  the  living  creatures.  What  was 
inside,  I  cannot  record  ;  for  to  my  eyes  the  black- 
ness was  positively  thick.  I  felt  blindly  out 
through  the  palpable  darkness  and  caught  tight 
hold  of  a  pole,  that  seemed  to  reach  from  side  to 
side.  This  gave  me  leverage  and  I  hoisted  myself 
upon  it,  bringing  my  crown  a  mighty  sharp  crack 
as  I  mounted  the  perch ;  for  the  beaver  lodge 
sloped  down  like  an  egg  shell. 

I  must  have  seemed  some  water  monster  to  the 
poor  beaver ;  for  there  was  a  scurrying,  scamper- 
ing and  gurgling  off  into  the  river.  Then  my  own 
breathing  and  the  drip  of  my  clothes  were  all  that 
disturbed  the  lodge. 

Time,  say  certain  philosophers,  is  the  measure 


Wherein  Louis  Intrigues  295 

of  a  man's  ideas  marching  along  in  uniform  pro- 
cession. But  I  hold  they  are  wrong.  Time  is 
nothing  of  the  sort ;  else  had  time  stopped  as  I 
hung  panting  over  the  pole  in  the  beaver  lodo-e  • 
for  one  idea  and  one  only,  beat  and  beat  and  beat 
to  the  pulsing  of  the  blood  that  throbbed  through 
my  brain—*'  I  am  safe— I  am  safe— I  am  safe !  " 

How  can  I  tell  how  long  I  hung  there?  To 
me  it  seemed  a  century.  I  do  not  even  know 
whether  I  lost  consciousness.  I  am  sure  I  repeat- 
edly awakened  with  a  jerk  back  from  some  hazy, 
far-off,  oblivious  realm,  shut  off  even  in  memory 
from  the  things  of  this  life.  I  am  sure  I  tried  to 
burrow  my  hand  through  the  clammy  moss-wall 
of  the  beaver  lodge  to  let  in  fresh  air;  but  my 
spirit  would  be  suddenly  rapt  away  to  that  other 
region.  I  am  sure  I  felt  the  waters  washing  over 
my  head  and  sweeping  me  away  from  this  world 
to  another  life.  Then  I  would  lose  grip  of  the 
pole  and  come  to  myself  clutching  at  it  with  wild 
terror ;  and  again  the  drowse  of  life's  borderland 
would  overpower  me.  And  all  the  time  I  was 
saying  over  and  over,  ''  I  am  safe  !  I  am  safe  !  " 

How  many  of  the  things  called  hours  slipped 
past,  I  do  not  know.  As  I  said  before,  it  seemed 
to  me  a  century.  Whether  it  was  mid-day,  or 
twilight,  when  I  let  myself  down  from  the  pole 
and  crawled  like  a  bedraggled  water-rat  to  the 
shore,  I  do  not  know.  Whether  it  was  morning, 
or  night,  when  I  dragged  myself  under  the  fern- 
brake  and  fell  into  a  death-like  sleep,  I  do  not 
know.     When  I  awakened,  the  forest  was  a  laby- 


296  Lords  of  the  North 

rinth  of  shafted  moonlight  and  sombre  shadows. 
All  that  had  happened  in  the  past  twenty-four 
hours  came  back  to  me  with  vivid  reality.  I  re- 
membered Laplante's  promise  to  leave  a  horse 
for  me  in  the  valley  beyond  the  beaver  dam. 
With  this  hope  in  my  heart  I  crawled  cautiously 
down  through  the  silent  shadows  of  the  night. 

At  daybreak  I  found  Louis  had  made  good  his 
promise,  and  I  was  speeding  on  horseback  towards 
the  trail,  where  Little  Fellow  awaited  me. 


CHAPTER  XX 

PLOTS  AND   COUNTER-PLOTS 

He  who  would  hear  that  paradox  of  impossi- 
bilities— silence  become  vocal — must  traverse 
the  vast  wastes  of  the  prairie  by  night.  As  a 
mother  quiets  a  fretful  child,  so  the  illimitable 
calm  lulls  tumultuous  thoughts.  The  wind  mov- 
ing through  empty  solitudes  comes  with  a  sigh  of 
unutterable  loneliness.  Unconsciously,  men  listen 
for  some  faint  rustling  from  the  gauzy,  wavering 
streamers  that  fire  northern  skies.  The  dullest 
ear  can  almost  fancy  sounds  from  the  noiseless 
wheeling  of  planets  through  the  overspanning 
vaulted  blue ;  and  human  speech  seems  sacrilege. 

Though  the  language  of  the  prairie  be  not  in 
words,  some  message  is  surely  uttered;  for  the 
people  of  the  plains  wear  the  far-away  look  of 
communion  with  the  unseen  and  the  unheard. 
The  fine  sensibility  of  the  white  woman,  perhaps, 
shows  the  impress  of  the  vast  solitudes  most 
readily,  and  the  gravely  repressed  nature  of  the 
Indian  least ;  but  all  plain-dwellers  have  learned 
to  catch  the  voice  of  the  prairie.  I,  myself,  know 
the  message  well,  though  I  may  no  more  put  it 
into   words   than   the   song   love   sings  in  one's 

297 


298  Lords  of  the  North 

heart.  Love,  says  the  poet,  is  infinite.  So  is 
the  space  of  the  prairie.  That,  I  suppose,  is 
why  both  are  too  boundless  for  the  limitation 
of  speech. 

Night  after  night,  with  only  a  grassy  swish  and 
deadened  tread  over  the  turf  breaking  stillness, 
we  journeyed  northward.  Occasionally,  like  the 
chirp  of  cricket  in  a  dry  well,  life  sounded  through 
emptiness.  Skulking  coyotes,  seeking  prey  among 
earth  mounds,  or  night  hawks,  lilting  solitarily  in 
vaulted  mid-heaven,  uttered  cries  that  pierced  the 
vast  blue.  Owls  flapped  stupidly  up  from  our 
horses'  feet.  Hungry  kites  wheeled  above  lonely 
Indian  graves,  or  perched  on  the  scaffolding, 
where  the  dead  lay  swathed  in  skins. 

Reflecting  on  my  experiences  with  the  Man- 
danes  and  the  Sioux,  I  was  disposed  to  upbraid 
fate  as  a  senseless  thing  with  no  thread  of  pur- 
pose through  life's  hopeless  jumble.  Now,  some- 
thing in  the  calm  of  the  plains,  or  the  certainty 
of  our  unerring  star-guides,  quieted  my  unrest. 
Besides,  was  I  not  returning  to  one  who  was  peer- 
less? That  hope  speedily  eclipsed  all  interests. 
That  was  purpose  enough  for  my  life.  Forth- 
with, I  began  comparing  lustrous  gray  eyes  to 
the  stars,  and  tracing  a  woman's  figure  in  the 
diaphanous  northern  lights.  One  face  ever 
gleamed  through  the  dusk  at  my  horse's  head 
and  beckoned  northward.  I  do  not  think  her 
presence  left  me  for  an  instant  on  that  home- 
ward journey.  But,  indeed,  I  should  not  set 
down  these  extravagances,  which  each  may  recall 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  299 

in  his  own  case,  only  I  would  have  others  judge 
whether  she  influenced  me,  or  I,  her. 

Thus  we    traveled   northward,    journeying  by 
night  as  long  as  we  were  in   the   Sioux  territory. 
Once  in  the  land  of  the  Assiniboines,  we  rode  day 
and  night  to  the  limit   of  our  horses'   endurance. 
Remembering  the  Hudson's  Bay  outrage  at  the 
Souris,  and  having  also  heard  from  Mandane  run- 
ners of  a  raid  planned  by  our  rivals  against  the 
North-West   fort  at   Pembina,  I  steered  wide  of 
both  places,  following  the  old  Missouri  trail  mid- 
way between  the  Red  and  Souris  rivers.     It  may 
have   been   because  we  traveled  at  night,  but   I 
did    not    encounter    a    single    person,    native   or 
white,  till  we  came  close  to   the   Red  and  were 
less  than   a  day's  journey  from    Fort   Gibraltar. 
On  the  river  trail,  we  overtook  some  Hudson's 
Bay  trappers.     The  fellows  would   not  answer  a 
single  question  about  events  during  the  year  and 
scampered  away  from  us  as  if  we   carried  small- 
pox, which   had  thinned   the   population  a  few 

years  before. 

-  That's  bad  ! "  said  I  aloud,  as  the  men  fled 
down  the  river  bank,  Avhere  we  could  not  follow. 
Little  Fellow  looked  as  solemn  as  a  grave-stone. 
He  shook  his  head  with  ominous  wisdom  that 
foresees  all  evil  but  refuses  to  prophesy. 

''  Bother  to  you.  Little  Fellow!  "  I  exclaimed. 
''  What  do  you  mean  ?     What's  up  ?  " 

Again  the  Indian  shook  his  head  with  dark 
mutterings,  looking  mighty  solemn,  but  he  would 
not    share   his   foreknowledge.      W^e   met   more 


300  Lords  of  the  North 

Hudson's  Bay  men,  and  their  conduct  was  unmis- 
takably suspicious.  On  a  sudden  seeing  us,  they 
reined  up  their  horses,  wheeled  and  galloped  off 
without  a  word. 

"  I  don't  like  that!  I  emphatically  don't !  "  I 
piloted  my  broncho  to  a  slight  roll  of  the  prairie, 
where  we  could  reconnoitre.  Distinctly  there 
was  the  spot  where  the  two  rivers  met.  Inter- 
vening shrubbery  confused  my  bearings.  I  rose 
in  my  stirrups,  while  Little  Fellow  stood  erect 
on  his  horse's  back. 

"  Little  Fellow ! "  I  cried,  exasperated  with 
myself,  **  Where's  Fort  Gibraltar?  I  see  where 
it  ought  to  be,  where  the  towers  ought  to  be 
higher  than  that  brush,  but  where's  the  fort  ?  " 

The  Indian  screened  his  eyes  and  gazed  for- 
ward. Then  he  came  down  with  a  thud,  abruptly 
re-straddling  his  horse,  and  uttered  one  explosive 
word — "Smoke." 

"Smoke?  I  don't  see  smoke!  Where's  the 
fort?" 

"  No  fort,"  said  he. 

"  You're  daft !  "  I  informed  him,  with  the  en- 
gaging frankness  of  a  master  for  a  servant. 
"  There — is — a  fort,  and  you  know  it — we're 
both  lost — that's  more  !  A  fine  Indian  you  are, 
to  get  lost !  " 

Little  Fellow  scrambled  with  alacrity  to  the 
ground.  Picking  up  two  small  switches,  he 
propped  them  against  each  other. 

"  Fort !  "  he  said,  laconically,  pointing  to  the 
switches. 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  301 

"  L'anglais  !  "  he  cried,  thrusting  out  his  foot, 
which  signified  Hudson's  Bay. 

"  No  fort !  "  he  shouted,  kicking  the  switches 
into  the  air.  "No  fort!"  and  he  looked  with 
speechless  disgust  at  the  vacancy. 

Now  I  knew  what  he  meant.  Fort  Gibraltar 
had  been  destroyed  by  Hudson's  Bay  men.  We 
had  no  alternative  but  to  strike  west  along  the 
Assiniboine,  on  the  chance  of  meeting  some 
Nor'-Westers  before  reaching  the  company's 
quarters  at  the  Portage.  That  post,  too,  might 
be  destroyed ;  but  where  were  Hamilton  and 
Father  Holland  ?  Danger,  or  no  danger,  I  must 
learn  more  of  the  doings  in  Red  River.  Also, 
there  were  reasons  why  I  wished  to  visit  the  set- 
tlers of  Fort  Douglas.  We  camped  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Assiniboine  a  few  miles  from  the  Red, 
and  Little  Fellow  went  to  some  neighboring 
half-breeds  for  a  canoe. 

And  a  strange  story  he  brought  back !  A 
great  man,  second  only  to  the  king — so  the  half- 
breeds  said — had  come  from  England  to  rule  over 
Assiniboia.  He  boasted  the  shock  of  his  power 
would  be  felt  from  Montreal  to  Athabasca.  He 
would  drive  out  all  Nor'-Westers.  This  person- 
age, I  afterwards  learned,  was  the  amiable  Gov- 
ernor Semple,  who  succeeded  Captain  Miles  Mc- 
Donell.  Already,  as  a  hunter  chases  a  deer,  had 
the  great  governor  chased  Nor'-Westers  from 
Red  River.  Did  Little  Fellow  doubt  their 
word  ?  W^here  was  Fort  Gibraltar  ?  Let  Little 
Fellow  look  and  see  for  himself  if  aught  but  ma- 


302  Lords  of  the  North 

sonry  and  charred  walls  stood  where  Fort  Gibral- 
tar had  been  I  Let  him  seek  the  rafters  of  the 
Nor-Westers'  fort  in  the  new  walls  of  Fort 
Douglas!  Pembina,  too,  had  fallen  before  the 
Hudson's  Bay  men.  Since  the  coming  of  the 
great  governor,  nothing  could  stand  before  the 
English. 

But  wait !  It  was  not  all  over  !  The  war  drum 
was  beating  in  the  tents  of  all  the  Bois-Bruh's  ! 
The  great  governor  should  be  taught  that  even 
the  king's  arms  could  not  prevail  against  the 
Bois-Brul^s  /  Was  there  smoke  of  battle  ?  The 
Bois-Brules  would  be  there  I  The  Bois-Brules  had 
wrongs  to  avenge.  They  would  not  be  turned  out 
of  their  forts  for  nothing!  Knives  would  be  un- 
sheathed. There  were  full  powder-bags  !  There 
was  a  grand  gathering  of  Bois-Brules  at  the  Por- 
tage. They,  themselves,  were  on  the  way  there. 
Let  Little  Fellow  and  the  white  trader  join  them  ! 
Let  them  be  wary  ;  for  the  English  were  watch- 
ful !  Great  things  were  to  be  done  by  the  Bois- 
Bridcs  before  another  moon — and  Little  Fellow's 
eyes  snapped  fire  as  he  related  their  vauntings. 

I  was  inclined  to  regard  the  report  as  a  fairy 
tale.  If  the  half-breeds  were  arming  and  the  Eng- 
lish watchful,  the  distrust  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
men  was  explained.  A  nomad,  himself,  the  In- 
dian may  be  willing  enough  to  share  running 
rights  over  the  land  of  his  fathers  ;  but  when  the 
newcomer  not  only  usurps  possession,  but  imposes 
the  yoke  of  laws  on  the  native,  the  resentment  of 
the   dusky    race   is    easily    fanned   to   that  point 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  303 

which  civilized  men  call  rebellion.  I  could  readily 
understand  how  the  Hudson's  Bay  proclamations 
forbidding  the  sale  of  furs  to  rivals,  when  these 
rivals  were  friends  by  marriage  and  treaty  with 
the  natives,  roused  all  the  bloodthirsty  fury  of 
the  Indian  nature.  Nor'-Westers'  forts  were 
being  plundered.  Why  should  the  Bois-Bride's 
not  pillage  Hudson's  Bay  posts  ?  Each  company 
was  stealing  the  cargo  of  its  rival,  as  boats  passed 
and  repassed  the  different  forts.  Why  should 
the  half-breed  not  have  his  share  of  the  booty  ? 
The  most  peace-loving  dog  can  be  set  a-fighting ; 
and  the  fight-loving  Indian  finds  it  very  difficult 
indeed,  to  keep  the  peace.  This,  the  great  fur 
companies  had  not  yet  realized  ;  and  the  lesson 
was  to  be  driven  home  to  them  with  irresistible 
force. 

The  half-breeds  also  had  news  of  a  priest  bring- 
ing a  delirious  man  to  Fort  Douglas.  The 
description  seemed  to  fit  Hamilton  and  Father 
Holland.  Whatever  truth  might  be  in  the  rumors 
of  an  uprising,  I  must  ascertain  whether  or  not 
Frances  Sutherland  would  be  safe.  Leaving 
Little  Fellow  to  guard  our  horses,  at  sundown  I 
pushed  my  canoe  into  the  Assiniboine  just  east 
of  the  rapids.  Paddling  swiftly  with  the  current, 
I  kept  close  to  the  south  bank,  where  overhang- 
ing willows  concealed  one  side  of  the  river. 

As  I  swung  out  into  the  Red,  true  to  the  Bois- 
Brides  report,  I  saw  only  blackened  chimneys  and 
ruined  walls  on  the  site  of  Fort  Gibraltar.  Head- 
ing towards  the  right  bank,  I  hugged  the  naked 


304  Lords  of  the  North 

cliff  on  the  side  opposite  Fort  Douglas,  and 
trusted  the  rising  mist  to  conceal  me.  Thus,  I 
slipped  past  cannon,  pointing  threateningly  from 
the  Hudson's  Bay  post,  recrossed  to  the  wooded 
west  bank  again,  and  paddled  on  till  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  little,  square,  whitewashed  house  in 
a  grove  of  fine  old  trees.  This  I  knew,  from 
Frances  Sutherland's  description,  was  her  father's 
place. 

Mooring  among  the  shrubbery  I  had  no  patience 
to  hunt  for  beaten  path ;  but  digging  my  feet 
into  soft  clay  and  catching  branches  with  both 
hands,  I  clambered  up  the  cliff  and  found  myself 
in  a  thicket  not  a  stone's  throw  from  the  door. 
The  house  was  in  darkness.  My  heart  sank  at  a 
possibility  which  hardly  framed  itself  to  a  thought. 
Was  the  apparition  in  the  Mandane  lodge  some 
portent  ?  Had  I  not  read,  or  heard,  of  departed 
spirits  hovering  near  loved  ones?  I  had  no 
courage  to  think  more. 

Suddenly  the  door  flung  open.  Involuntarily, 
I  slipped  behind  the  bushes,  but  dusk  hid  the 
approaching  figure.  Whoever  it  was  made  no 
noise.  I  felt,  rather  than  heard,  her  coming,  and 
knew  no  man  could  walk  so  silently.  It  must  be 
a  woman.  Then  my  chest  stifled  and  I  heard  my 
own  heart-beats.  Garments  fluttered  past  the 
branches  of  my  hiding-place.  She  of  whom  I  had 
dreamed  by  night  and  thought  by  day  and  hoped 
whether  sleeping,  or  waking,  paused,  not  an  arm's 
length  away. 

Toying  with  the  tip  of  the  branch,  which  I  was 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  305 

gripping  for  dear  life,  she  looked  languorously 
through  the  foliage  towards  the  river.  At  first 
I  thought  myself  the  victim  of  another  halluci- 
nation, but  would  not  stir  lest  the  vision  should 
vanish.  She  sighed  audibly,  and  I  knew  this  was 
no  spectre.  Then  I  trembled  all  the  more,  for 
my  sudden  appearance  might  alarm  her. 

I  should  wait  until  she  went  back  to  the  house 
— another  of  my  brave  vows  to  keep  myself  in 
hand  ! — then  walk  up  noisily,  giving  due  warn- 
ing, and  knock  at  the  door.  The  keeping  of 
that  resolution  demanded  all  my  strength  of 
will ;  for  she  was  so  near  I  could  have  clasped 
her  in  my  arms  without  an  effort.  Indeed,  it 
took  a  very  great  effort  to  refrain  from  doing  so. 

"  Heigh-ho,"  said  a  low  voice  with  the  ripple 
of  a  sunny  brook  tinkling  over  pebbles,  ''but 
it's  a  long  day — and  a  long,  long  week — and  a 
long,  long,  long  month — and  oh  ! — a  century  of 
years  since "  and  the  voice  broke  in  a  sigh. 

I  think — though  I  would  not  set  this  down  as 
a  fact — that  a  certain  small  foot,  which  once 
stamped  two  strong  men  into  obedience,  now 
vented  its  impatience  at  a  twig  on  the  grass.  By 
the  code  of  eastern  proprieties,  I  may  not  say 
that  the  dainty  toe-tip  first  kicked  the  offensive 
little  branch  and  then  crunched  it  deep  in  the 
turf. 

"  I  hate  this  lonely  country,"  said  the  voice, 
with  the  vim  of  water-fret  against  an  obstinate 
stone.  "  Wonder  what  it's  like  in  the  Mandane 
land  !     I'm  sure  it's  nicer  there." 

2Q 


3o6  Lords  of  the  North 

Now  I  affirm  there  is  not  a  youth  Hving  who 
would  not  at  some  time  give  his  right  hand  to 
know  a  woman's  exact  interpretation  of  that 
word  "  nicer."  For  my  part,  it  set  me  clutching 
the  branch  with  such  ferocity,  off  snapped  the 
thing  with  the  sharp  splintering  of  a  breaking 
stick.  The  voice  gave  a  gasp  and  she  jumped 
aside  with  nervous  trepidation. 

"Whatever — was  that?  I  arr. — not  fright- 
ened." No  one  was  accusing  her.  '*  I  won't  go 
in !  I  won't  let  myself  be  frightened  !  There  ! 
The  very  idea!"  And  three  or  four  sharp  stamps 
followed  in  quick  succession ;  but  she  was 
shivering. 

"  I  declare  the  house  is  so  lonely,  a  ghost  would 
be  live  company."  And  she  looked  doubtfully 
from  the  dark  house  to  the  quivering  poplars. 
"  I'd  rather  be  out  here  with  the  tree-toads  and 
owls  and  bats  than  in  there  alone,  even  if  they  do 
frighten  me!  Any  way,  I'm  not  frightened  !  It's 
just  some  stupid  hop-and-go-spring  thing  at  the 
base  of  our  brains  that  makes  us  jump  at  mice  and 
rats."  But  the  hands  interlocking  at  her  back 
twitched  and  clasped  and  unclasped  in  a  way  that 
showed  the  automatic  brain-spring  was  still  active. 

*'  It's  getting  worse  every  day.  I  can't  stand  it 
much  longer,  looking  and  looking  till  I'm  half 
blind  and  no  one  but  Indian  riders  all  day  long. 
Why  doesn't  he  come  ?  Oh  !  I  know  some- 
thing is  wrong." 

"  Afraid  of  the  Metis,"  thought  I, ''  and  expect- 
ing her  father.     A  fine  father  to  leave  his  daughter 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  3o7 

alone  in  the  house  with  the  half-breeds  threaten- 
ing  a  raid.  She  needs  some  one  else  to  take  care 
of  her."  This,  on  after  thought,  I  know  was  un- 
just to  her  father;  for  pioneers  obey  necessity 
first  and  chivalry  second. 

**  If  he  would  only  come ! "  she  repeated   in  a 
half  whisper. 

''  Hope  he  doesn't,"  thought  I. 
''  For  a  week  I've  been  dreaming  such  fearful 
things  !     I  see  him  sinking  in  green  water,  stretch- 
ing his  hands  to  me  and  I  can't  reach  out  to  save 
him.     On  Sunday  he  seemed  to  be  running  along 
a  black,  awful  precipice.     I  caught  him  in  my  arms 
to  hold  him  back,  but  he  dragged  me  over  and  I 
screamed  myself  awake.     Sometimes,  he  is  in  a 
black  cave  and  I  can't  find  any  door  to  let  him  out. 
Or  he  lies  bound  in  some  dungeon,  and  when   I 
stoop  to  cut  the   cords,  he  begins  to   sink  down, 
down,  down  through  the  dark,  where  I  can't  follow. 
I  leap  after  him  and   always  waken   with  such  a 
dizzy  start.     Oh  !  I  know  he  has  been  in  trouble. 
Something  is  wrong  !     His  thoughts  are  reaching 
out  to  me  and  I  am  so  gross  and  stupid  I  can't 
hear  what   his  spirit   says.     If  I   could  only  get 
away     from     things,     the    clatter    of     everyday 
things  that  dull  one's  inner  hearing,   perhaps    I 
might  know!     I  feel  as  if  he  spoke  in   a  foreign 
language,  but  the  words  he  uses  I  can't  make  out. 
All  to-day,  he  has  seemed  so  near  !     Why  does 
he  not  come  home  to  me  ?  " 

"  Mighty  fond  daughter,"  thought  I,  with  a  jeal- 
ous pang.     She  was  fumbling  among  the  intricate 


3o8  Lords  of  the  North 

draperies,  where  women  conceal  pockets,  and  pres- 
ently brought  out  something  in  the  palm  of  her 
hand. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  him  know  how  foolish  I  am," 
and  she  laid  the  thing  gently  against  her  cheek. 

Now  I  had  never  given  Frances  Sutherland  a 
gift  of  any  sort  whatever ;  and  my  heart  was 
pierced  with  anguish  that  cannot  be  described. 
I  was,  indeed,  falling  over  a  precipice  and  her  arms 
were  not  holding  me  back  but  dragging  me  over. 
Would  that  I,  like  the  dreamer,  could  awaken  with 
a  start.  In  all  conscience,  I  was  dizzy  enough  ; 
and  every  pressure  of  that  hateful  object  to  her 
face  bound  me  faster  in  a  dungeon  of  utter  hope- 
lessness. ]\Iy  sweet  day-dreams  and  midnight 
rhapsodies  trooped  back  to  mock  at  me,  I  felt 
that  I  must  bow  broken  under  anguish  or  else 
steel  myself  and  shout  back  cynical  derision  to  the 
whole  wan  troop  of  torturing  regrets.  And  all  the 
time,  she  was  caressing  that  thing  in  her  hand  and 
looking  down  at  it  with  a  fondness,  which  I — poor 
fool — thought  that  I  alone  could  inspire.  I  sup- 
pose if  I  could  have  crept  away  unobserved,  I 
would  have  gone  from  her  presence  hardened 
and  embittered  ;  but  I  must  play  out  the  hateful 
part  of  eavesdropper  to  the  end. 

She  opened  the  hand  to  feast  her  eyes  on  the 
treasure,  and  I  craned  forward,  playing  the  sneak 
without  a  pang  of  shame,  but  the  dusk  foiled  me. 

Then  the  low,  mellow,  vibrant  tones,  whose  very 
music  would  have  intoxicated  duller  fools  than  I 
— 'tis  ever  a  comfort  to  know  there  are   greater 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  309 

fools — broke  in  melody  :  ''  To  my  own  dear  love 
from  her  ever  loyal  and  devoted  knight,"  and  she 
held  her  opened  hand  high.  'Twas  my  birch-bark 
messaee  which  Father  Holland  had  carried  north. 
I  suddenly  went  insane  with  a  great  overcharge  of 
joy,  that  paralyzed  all  motion. 

''  Dear  love —  wherever  are  you  ?  "  asked  a 
voice  that  throbbed  with  longing. 

Can  any  man  blame  me  for  breaking  through 
the  thicket  and  my  resolution  and  discretion  and 
all? 

"  Here — beloved  !  "     I  sprang  from  the  bush. 

She  gave  a  cry  of  affright  and  would  have 
fallen,  but  my  arms  were  about  her  and  my  lips 
giving  silent  proof  that  I  was  no  wraith. 

What  next  we  said  I  do  not  remember.  With 
her  head  on  my  shoulder  and  I  doing  the  only 
thing  a  man  could  do  to  stem  her  tears,  I  com- 
pletely lost  track  of  the  order  of  things.  I  do  not 
believe  either  of  us  was  calm  enough  for  words 
for  some  time  after  the  meeting.  It  was  she 
who  regained  mental  poise  first. 

"Rufus!"  she  exclaimed,  breaking  away  from 
me,  ''  You're  not  a  sensible  man  at  all." 

"  Never  said  I  was,"  I  returned. 

''If  you  do  f/iat,"  she  answered,  ignoring  my 
remark  and  receding  farther,  ''  I'll  never  stop 
crying." 

"  Then  cry  on  forever !  " 

With  womanly  ingratitude,  she  promptly 
called  me  *'  a  goose  "  and  other  irrelevant  names. 

The  rest  of  our  talk  that  evening  I   do   not 


310  Lords  of  the  North 

intend  to  set  down.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  best 
understood  by  only  two.  In  the  second,  it  could 
not  be  transcribed;  and  in  the  third,  it  was  all 
a  deal  too  sacred. 

We  did,  however,  become  impersonal  for  short 
intervals. 

"  I  feel  as  if  there  were  some  storm  in  the  air," 
said  Frances  Sutherland.  "  The  half-breeds  are 
excited.  They  are  riding  past  the  settlement  in 
scores  every  day.  O,  Rufus,  I  know  something 
is  wrong." 

"  So  do  I,"  was  my  rejoinder.  I  was  thinking 
of  the  strange  gossip  of  the  Assiniboine  encamp- 
ment. 

"  Do  you  think  the  Bois-Bride's  would  plunder 
your  boats?"  she  asked  innocently,  ignorant  that 
the  malcontents  were  Nor'-Westers. 

"  No,"  said  I.     "  What  boats  ?  " 

"  Why,  Nor'-West  boats,  of  course,  coming  up 
Red  River  from  Fort  William  to  go  up  the  Assin- 
iboine for  the  winter's  supplies.  They're  coming 
in  a  few  days.     My  father  told  me  so." 

''Is  Mr.  Sutherland  an  H.B.C.  or  Nor'- 
Wester  ?  "  I  asked  in  the  slang  of  the  company 
talk. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  don't  think 
he  knows  himself.  He  says  there  are  numbers  of 
men  like  that,  and  they  all  know  there  is  to  be  a 
raid.  Why,  Rufus,  there  are  men  down  the 
river  every  day  watching  for  the  Nor'-Westers' 
Fort  William  express." 

"  Where   do    the    men    come    from  ? "  I   ques- 


Plots  and  Counter-Plots  311 

tioned,  vainly  trying  to  patch  some  connection 
between  plots  for  a  raid  on  North-West  boats 
and  plots  for  a  fight  by  Nor'-West  followers. 

*'  From  Fort  Douglas,  of  course." 

*'  H.B.C.'s,  my  dear.  You  must  go  to  Fort 
Douglas  at  once.  There  will  be  a  fight.  You 
must  go  to-morrow  with  your  father,  or  with  me 
to-night,"  I  urged,  thinking  I  should  take  my- 
self off  and  notify  my  company  of  the  intended 
pillaging. 

*'  With  you  ?  "  she  laughed.  "  Father  will  be 
home  in  an  hour.     Are  you  sure  about  a  fight  !  " 

*'  Quite,"  said  I,  trembling  for  her  safety.  This 
certainty  of  mine  has  been  quoted  to  prove  pre- 
meditation on  the  Nor'-Westers'  part ;  but  I 
meant  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  only  felt  there  was 
unrest  on  both  sides,  and  that  she  must  be  out  of 
harm's  way. 

Truly,  I  have  seldom  had  a  harder  duty  to 
perform  than  to  leave  Frances  alone  in  that  dark 
house  to  go  and  inform  my  company  of  the  plot. 

Many  times  I  said  good-by  before  going  to  the 
canoe  and  times  unnumbered  ran  back  from  the 
river  to  repeat  some  warning  and  necessitate 
another  farewell. 

''  Rufus,  dear,"  she  said,  "  this  is  about  the 
twentieth  time.     You  mustn't  come  back  again." 

"  Then  good-by  for  the  twenty-first,"  said  I, 
and  came  away  feeling  like  a  young  priest 
anointed  for  some  holy  purpose. 

I  declare  now,  as  I  declared  before  the  courts 


312  Lords  of  the  North 

of  the  land,  that  in  hastening  to  the  Portage  with 
news  of  the  Hudson's  Bay's  intention  to  inter- 
cept the  Nor'-Westers'  express  from  Fort 
William,  I  had  no  other  thought  but  the  faithful 
serving  of  my  company.  I  knew  what  suffering 
the  destruction  of  Souris  had  entailed  in  Atha- 
basca, and  was  determined  our  brave  fellows 
should  not  starve  in  the  coming  winter  through 
my  negligence. 

Could  I  foresee  that  simple  act  of  mine  was  to 
let  loose  all  the  punishment  the  Hudson's  Bay 
had  been  heaping  up  against  the  day  of  judgment  ? 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LOUIS   PAYS   ME   BACK 

What  tempted  me  to  moor  opposite  the  ruins 
of  Fort  Gibraltar  ?  What  tempts  the  fly  into  the 
spider's  web  and  the  fish  with  a  wide  ocean  for 
play-ground  into  one  small  net  ?  I  know  there 
is  a  consoling  fashion  of  ascribing  our  blunders 
to  the  inscrutable  wisdom  of  a  long-suffering 
Providence ;  but  common-sense  forbids  I  should 
call  evil  good,  deify  my  errors,  and  give  thanks 
for  what  befalls  me  solely  through  my  own 
fault. 

Bare  posts  hacked  to  the  ground  were  all  that 
remained  of  Fort  Gibraltar's  old  wall.  I  had  not 
gone  many  paces  across  the  former  courtyard, 
when  voices  sounded  from  the  gravel-pit  that 
had  once  done  duty  as  a  cellar.  The  next  thing 
I  noticed  was  the  shaggy  face  of  Louis  Laplante 
bobbing  above  the  ground.  With  other  vaga- 
bond wanderers,  the  Frenchman  had  evidently 
been  rummaging  old  Nor'-West  vaults. 

*'  Tra-la,  comrade,"  he  shouted,  leaping  out 
of  the  cellar  as  soon  as  he  saw  me.  "  I,  Louis 
Laplante,  son  of  a  seigneur,  am  resurrecting.  I 
was  a  Plante !  Now  I'm  a  Louts  d'or,  fresh 
coined    from    the    golden  vein    of   dazzling  wit. 

313 


314  Lords  of  the  North 

Once  we  were  men,  but  they  drowned  us  in  a 
wine-barrel  Hke  your  lucky  dog  of  an  English 
prince.  Now  we're  earth-goblins  re-incarnate ! 
Behold  gnomes  of  the  mine  !  Knaves  of  the  neth- 
ermost depths,  tra-la !  Vampires  that  suck  the 
blood  of  whisky-cellars  and  float  to  the  skies  with 
dusky  wings  and  dizzy  heads  !  Laugh  with  us, 
old  solemncholy  !  See  the  ground  spin  !  Laugh, 
I  say,  or  be  a  hitching-post,  and  we'll  dance  the 
May-pole  round  you  !  We're  vampires,  comrade, 
and  you're  our  cousin,  for  you're  a  bat,"  and 
Louis  applauded  his  joke  with  loud,  tipsy  laughter 
and  staggered  up  to  me  drunk  as  a  lord.  His 
heavy  breath  and  bloodshot  eyes  testified  what 
he  had  found  under  the  rubbish  heaps  of  Fort 
Gibraltar's  cellar.  Embracing  me  with  the  affec- 
tion of  a  long-lost  brother,  he  rattled  on  with  a 
befuddled,  meaningless  jargon. 

"  So  the  knife  cut  well,  did  it?  And  the  Sioux 
did  not  eat  you  by  inches,  beginning  with  your 
thumbs?  Ha!  Tres  bien !  Very  good  taste! 
You  were  not  meant  for  feasts,  my  solemncholy  ? 
Some  men  are  monuments.  That's  you,  mine 
frien' !  Some  are  champagne  bottles  that  un- 
cork, zip,  fizz,  froth,  stars  dancing  round  your 
head  !  That's  me  !  *Tis  I,  Louis  Laplante,  son 
of  a  seigneur,  am  that  champagne  bottle  !  " 

Pausing  for  breath,  he  drew  himself  erect  with 
ridiculous  pomposity.  Now  there  are  times  when 
the  bravest  and  wisest  thing  a  brave  and  wise  man 
can  do  is  take  to  his  heels.  I  have  heard  my  Uncle 
Jack    MacKenzie  say  that  vice   and  liquor  and 


Louis  Pays  Me  Back  315 

folly  are  best  frustrated  by  flight ;  and  all  three 
seemed  to  be  embodied  in  Louis  Laplante  that 
night.  A  stupid  sort  of  curiosity  made  me  dally 
with  the  mischief  brewing  in  him,  just  as  the  fly 
plays  with  the  spider-web,  or  the  fish  with  a 
baited  hook. 

"  There's  a  fountain-spout  in  Nor'-West  vaults 
for  those  who  know  where  to  tap  the  spigot,  eh, 
Louis?  "  I  asked. 

''  I'm  a  Hudson's  Bay  man  and  to  the  con- 
queror comes  the  tribute,"  returned  Louis,  sweep- 
ing me  a  courtly  bow. 

"  I  hope  such  a  generous  conqueror  draws  all 
the  tribute  he  deserves.  Do  you  remember  how 
you  saved  my  life  twice  from  the  Sioux,  Louis?  " 

"  Generous,"  shouted  the  Frenchman,  drawing 
himself  up  proudly,  "  generous  to  mine  enemy, 
always  magnificent,  grand,  superb,  as  becomes 
the  son  of  a  seigneur!  Now  I  pay  you  back, 
rich,  well,  generous." 

**  Nonsense,  Louis,"  I  expostulated.  "  'Tis  I 
who  am  In  your  debt.  I  owe  you  my  life  twice 
over.  How  shall  I  pay  you  ?  "  and  I  made  to  go 
down  to  my  canoe. 

^' Pay  me?"  demanded  Louis,  thrusting  him- 
self across  my  path  in  a  menacing  attitude. 
"  Stand  and  pay  me  like  a  man  ! " 

"  I  am  standing,"  I  laughed.  "  Now,  how 
shall  I  pay  you  ?  " 

^*  Strike  !  "  ordered  Louis,  launching  out  a 
blow  which  I  barely  missed.  ''  Strike,  I  say,  for 
kicking  me,  the  son  of  a  seigneur,  like  a  pig  I" 


3i6  Lords  of  the  North 

At  that,  half  a  dozen  more  drunken  vagabonds 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  service  reeled  up  from  the 
cellar  pit ;  and  I  began  to  understand  I  was  in 
for  as  much  mischief  as  a  young  man  could  de- 
sire. The  fellows  were  about  us  in  a  circle,  and 
now,  that  it  was  too  late,  I  was  quite  prepared 
like  the  fly  and  the  fish  to  seek  safety  in  flight. 

''  Sink  his  canoe,"  suggested  one ;  and  I  saw 
that  borrowed  craft  swamped. 

*'  Strike  !  Sacredie  !  I  pay  you  back  generous," 
roared  Louis.  **  How  can  I,  Louis  Laplante, 
son  of  a  seigneur,  strike  a  man  who  won't  hit 
back  ?  " 

"  And  how  can  I  strike  a  man  who  saved  my 
life  ? "  I  urged,  trying  to  mollify  him.  *'  See 
here,  Louis,  I'm  on  a  message  for  my  company 
to-night.  I  can't  wait.  Some  other  day  you  can 
pay  me  all  you  like — not  to-night,  some-other- 
time " 

"  Some-oder-time  !  No — never  !  Some-oder- 
time — 'tis  the  way  I  pay  my  own  debts,  always 
some-oder-time,  and  I  never  not  pay  at  all.  You 
no  some-oder-time  me,  comrade  !  Louis  knows 
some  oder-time  too  well !  He  quit  his  cups  some- 
oder-time  and  he  never  quit,  not  at  all !  He  quit 
wild  Indian  some-oder-time,  and  he  never  quit, 
not  at  all !  And  he  go  home  and  say  his  confess 
to  the  cure  some-oder-time,  and  he  never  go,  not 
at  all !  And  he  settle  down  with  a  wife  and  be- 
come a  grand  seigneur  some-oder-time,  and  he 
never  settle  down  at  all !  " 

"  Good  night,  Laplante  !     I  have  bu.siness  for 


Louis  Pays  Me  Back  317 

the  company.  I  must  go,"  I  interrupted,  trying 
to  brush  through  the  group  that  surrounded  us. 

"  So  have  we  business  for  the  company,  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  you  can't  go," 
chimed  in  one  of  the  least  intoxicated  of  the 
rival  trappers ;  and  they  closed  about  me  so  that 
I  had  not  striking  room. 

"  Are  you  men  looking  for  trouble  ?  "  I  asked, 
involuntarily  fingering  my  pistol  belt. 

*'  No — we're  looking  for  the  Nor'-West  brigade 
billed  to  pass  from  Fort  William  to  Athabasca," 
jeered  the  boldest  of  the  crowd,  a  red-faced,  mid- 
dle-aged man  with  blear  eyes.  "  We're  looking 
for  the  Nor'-Westers'  express,"  and  he  laughed 
insolently. 

''  You  don't  expect  to  find  our  brigades  in  Fort 
Gibraltar's  cellar,"  said  I,  backing  away  from  them 
and  piecing  this  latest  information  to  what  I  had 
already  heard  of  plots  and  conspiracies. 

Forthwith  I  felt  strong  hands  gripping  both 
my  arms  like  a  vise  and  the  coils  of  a  rope  were 
about  me  with  the  swiftness  of  a  lasso.  My  first 
impulse  was  to  struggle  against  the  outrage  ;  but 
I  was  beginning  to  learn  the  service  of  open  ears 
and  a  closed  mouth  was  often  more  valuable  than 
a  fighter's  blows.  Already  I  had  ascertained  from 
their  own  lips  that  the  Hudson's  Bay  intended  to 
molest  our  north-bound  brigade. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  with  a  laugh,  which  surprised 
the  rascals  mightily,  "  now  you've  captured  your 
elephant,  what  do  you  propose  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

Without  answering,  the  men  shambled  down  to 


3i8  Lords  of  the  North 

the  landing  place  of  the  fort,  jostling  me  along 
between  the  red-faced  man  and  Louis  Laplante. 

''  I  consider  this  a  scurvy  trick,  Louis,"  said  L 
**  You've  let  me  into  a  pretty  scrape  with  your 
idiotic  heroics  about  paying  back  a  fancied  grudge. 
To  save  a  mouse  from  the  tigers,  Louis,  and  then 
feed  him  to  your  cats  !  Fie,  man  !  I  like  your 
son-of-a-seigneur  ideas  of  honor  !  '* 

"  Ingrate  !  Low-born  ingrate,"  snapped  the 
Frenchman,  preparing  to  strike  one  of  his  dra- 
matic attitudes,  "  if  I  were  not  the  son  of  a  sei- 
gneur, and  you  a  man  with  bound  arms,  you 
should  swallow  those  words,"  and  he  squared 
up  to  me  for  a  second  time.  "  If  you  won't 
fight,   you  shan't  run  away " 

"  Off  with  your  French  brag,"  ordered  the 
soberest  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  men,  catching  Louis 
by  the  scruff  of  his  coat  and  spinning  him  out  of 
the  way.  **  There'll  be  neither  fighting  nor  run- 
ning away.  It  is  to  Fort  Douglas  we'll  take 
our  fine  spy." 

The  words  stung,  but  I  muffled  my  indignation. 

"  I'll  go  with  pleasure,"  I  returned,  thinking 
that  Frances  Sutherland  and  Hamilton  and 
Father  Holland  were  good  enough  company  to 
compensate  for  any  captivity.  ''With  pleasure, 
and  'tis  not  the  first  time  I'll  have  found  friends 
in  the  Hudson's  Bay  fort." 

At  that  speech,  the  red-faced  man,  who  seemed 
to  be  the  ringleader,  eyed  me  narrowly.  We  all 
embarked  on  a  rickety  raft,  that  would,  I  declare, 
have    drowned  any  six   sober  men    who    risked 


Louis  Pays  Me  Back  319 

their  lives  on  it ;  but  drunk  men  and  children 
seem  to  do  what  sober,  grown  folk  may  not 
dare. 

How  Louis  Laplante  was  for  fighting  a  duel^';/ 
route  with  the  man,  who  spoke  of  "  French  brag  " 
and  was  only  dissuaded  from  his  purpose  by  the 
raft  suddenly  teetering  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees  with  the  water,  which  threatened  to 
toboggan  us  all  into  mid-river  ;  how  I  was  then 
stationed  in  the  centre  and  the  other  men  dis- 
tributed equally  on  each  side  of  the  raft  to  main- 
tain balance ;  how  we  swung  out  into  the  Red, 
rocking  with  each  shifting  of  the  crew  and  were 
treated  to  a  volley  of  objurgations  from  the  red- 
faced  man — I  do  not  intend  to  relate.  This  sort 
of  melodrama  may  be  seen  wherever  there  are 
drunken  men,  a  raft  and  a  river.  The  men  poled 
only  fitfully,  and  we  were  driven  solely  by  the 
current.  It  was  dark  long  before  we  had  neared 
Fort  Douglas  and  the  waters  swished  past  with 
an  inky,  glassy  sheen  that  vividly  recalled  the 
murky  pool  about  the  beaver-dam.  And  yet  I 
had  no  fear,  but  drifted  along  utterly  indifferent 
to  the  termination  of  the  freakish  escapade  in 
which  I  had  become  involved.  Nature  mercifully 
sets  a  limit  to  human  capacity  for  suffering;  and 
I  felt  I  had  reached  that  limit.  Nothing  worse 
could  happen  than  had  happened,  at  least,  so  I 
told  myself,  and  I  awaited  with  cynical  curiosity 
what  might  take  place  inside  the  Hudson's  Bay 
fort.  Then  a  shaft  of  lantern  light  pierced 
the  dark,  striking  aslant  the  river,  and  the  men 


320  Lords  of  the  North 

began  poling  hard  for  Fort  Douglas  wharf.  We 
struck  the  landing  with  a  bump,  disembarked, 
passed  the  sentinel  at  the  gate  and  were  at  the 
entrance  to  the  main  building. 

"  You  kick  me  here,"  said  Louis.  **  I  pay  you 
back  here !  ** 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him  ?  "  asked 
the  soberest  man  of  the  red-faced  leader. 

"  Hand  him  over  to  Governor  Semple  for  a 
spy." 

*'  The  governor's  abed.  Besides,  they  don't 
want  him  about  to  hear  H.  B.  secrets  when  the 
Nor'-West  brigade's  a-coming  !  You'd  better  get 
sobered  up,  yez  hed  !  That's  my  advice  to  yez, 
before  going  to  Governor  Semple,"  and  the  pru- 
dent trapper  led  the  way  inside.  To  the  fore  was 
the  main  stairway,  on  the  right  the  closed  store, 
and  on  the  left  a  small  apartment  which  the  gov- 
ernor had  fitted  up  as  a  private  office.  For  some 
unaccountable  reason — the  same  reason,  I  sup- 
pose, that  mischief  is  always  awaiting  the  mis- 
chief-maker— the  door  to  this  office  had  been  left 
ajar  and  a  light  burned  inside.  'Twas  Louis, 
ever  alert,  when  mischief  was  abroad,  who  tip-toed 
over  to  the  open  door,  poked  his  head  in  and  mo- 
tioned his  drunken  companions  across  the  sacred 
precincts  of  Governor  Semple's  private  room.  I 
was  loath  to  be  a  party  to  this  mad  nonsense, 
but  the  fly  and  the  fish  should  have  thought  of 
results  before  venturing  too  near  strange  coils. 
The  red-faced  fellow  gave  me  a  push.  The  sober 
man  muttered,  *'  Better  come,  or  they'll  raise  a 


Louis  Pays  Me  Back  321 

row/*  and  we  were  all  within  the  forbidden  place, 
the  door  shut  and  bolted. 

To  city  folk,  used  to  the  luxuries  of  the  east,  I 
dare  say  that  office  would  have  seemed  mean 
enough.  But  the  men  had  been  so  long  away 
from  leather  chairs,  hair-cloth  sofa,  wall  mirror, 
wine  decanter  and  other  odds  and  ends  which  fur- 
nish a  gentleman's  living  apartments  that  the 
very  memory  of  such  things  had  faded,  and  that 
small  room,  with  its  old-country  air,  seemed  the 
vestibule  to  another  world. 

"  Sump — too — uss — ain't  it  ?"  asked  the  sober 
man  with  bated  breath  and  obvious  distrust  of 
his  tongue. 

**  Mag — nee — feque  !  M.  Louis  Laplante,  look 
you  there,"  cried  the  Frenchman,  catching  sight 
of  his  full  figure  in  the  mirror  and  instantly 
striking  a  pose  of  admiration.  Then  he  twirled 
fiercely  at  both  ends  of  his  mustache  till  it  stood 
out  with  the  wire  finish  of  a  Parisian  dandy. 

The  red-faced  fellow  had  permitted  me,  with 
arms  still  tied,  to  walk  across  the  room  and  sit 
on  the  hair-cloth  sofa.  He  was  lolling  back  in 
the  governor's  armchair,  playing  the  lord  and 
puffing  one  of  Mr.  Semple's  fine  pipes. 

''  We  are  gentlemen  adventurers  of  the  ancient 
and  honorable  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  gentle- 
men adventurers,"  he  roared,  bringing  his  fist 
down  with  a  thud  on  the  desk.  "  We  hereby  de- 
cree that  the  Fort  William  brigade  be  captured, 
that  the  whisky  be  freely  given  to  every  dry- 
throated  lad  in  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  that 
21 


322  Lords  of  the  North 

the  Nor'-Westers  be  sent  down  the  Red  on  a  raft, 
that  this  meeting  raftify  this  dissolution,  after- 
wards moving — seconding — and  unanimously 
amending " 


"Adjourning — you  mean,"  interrupted  one  of 
the  orator's  audience. 

''  I  say,"  called  one,  who  had  been  dazed  by 
the  splendor,  *'  how  do  you  tell  which  is  the 
lookin' glass  and  which  is  the  window?"  And 
he  looked  from  the  window  on  one  side  to  its 
exact  reflection,  length  and  width,  directly 
opposite. 

The  puzzle  was  left  unsolved ;  for  just  then 
Louis  Laplante  found  a  flask  of  liquor  and  speed- 
ily divided  its  contents  among  the  crowd — which 
was  not  calculated  to  clear  up  mysteries  of 
windows  and  mirrors  among  those  addle-pates. 
Dull  wit  may  be  sport  for  drunken  men,  but  it  is 
miehtv  flat  to  an  onlooker,  and  I  was  out  of 
patience  with  their  carousal. 

"  The  governor  will  be  back  here  presently, 
Louis,"  said  L 

"  Tired  of  being  a  tombstone,  ha — ha  !  Better 
be  a  champagne  bottle !  "  he  laughed  with 
slightly  thickened  articulation  and  increased 
unsteadiness  in  his  gait. 

''  If  you  don't  hide  that  bottle  in  your  hand, 
there'll  be  a  big  head  and  a  sore  head  for  you 
men  to-morrow  morning."  I  rose  to  try  and  get 
them  out  of  the  office  ;  but  a  sober  man  with 
tied  arms  among  a  drunken  crew  is  at  a  disad- 
vantage. 


Louis  Pays  Me  Back  323 

<'  Ha  —  old—  wise  — sh— head  !     To— be— sh— 
shure  !     Whur— d'— y'— hide— it  ?  ** 

"  Throw  it  out  of  the  window,"  said  I,  without 
the  slightest  idea  of  leading  him  into  mischief. 

♦'Whish — whish— ish— the  window,  Rufush  ?  " 
asked  Louis  imploringly. 

The  last  potion  had  done  its  work  and  Louis 
was  passing  from  the  jovial  to  the  pensive  stage. 
He  would  presently  reach  a  mood  which  might 
be  ugly  enough  for  a  companion  in  bonds.  Was 
it  this  prospect,  I  wonder,  or  the  mischievous 
spirit  pervading  the  very  air  from  the  time  I 
reached  the  ruins  that  suggested  a  way  out  of 
my  dilemma? 

''  Throw  it  out  of  the  window,"  said  I,  ignoring 
his  question  and  shoving  him  off. 

"Whish — ish — the  window — dammie?"  he 
asked,  holding  the  bottle  irresolutely  and  looking 
in  befuddled  distraction  from  side  to  side  of  the 

room. 

"  Thur — both — windows — fur  as  I  see,"  said 
the  man,  who  had  been  sober,  but  was  no  longer  so. 

"Throw  it  through  the  back  window  !  Folks 
comin*  in  at  the  door  won't  see  it." 

The  red-faced  man  got  up  to  investigate,  and 
all  faith  in  my  plan  died  within  me  ;  but  the  lan- 
tern light  was  dusky  and  the  red-faced  man  could 
no   longer   navigate    a   course    from   window  to 

mirror. 

"There's  a  winder  there,"  said  he,  scratching 
his  head  and  looking  at  the  window  reflected  in 
perfect  proportion  on  the  mirrored  surface. 


324  Lords  of  the  North 

"  And  there's  a  winder  there,"  he  declared, 
pointing  at  the  real  window.  '*  They're  both 
winders  and  they're  both  lookin'-glasses,  for  I  see 
us  all  in  both  of  them.  This  place  is  haunted. 
Lem-me  out !  " 

"  Take  thish,  then,"  cried  Louis,  shoving  the 
bottle  towards  him  and  floundering  across  to  the 
door  to  bar  the  way.  ''  Take  thish,  or  tell  me 
whish — ish — the  window." 

"  Both  winders,  I  tell  you,  and  both  lookin'- 
glasses,"  vowed  the  man.  The  other  four  fellows 
declined  to  express  an  opinion  for  the  very  good 
reason  that  two  were  asleep  and  two  befuddled 
beyond  questioning. 

*'  See  here,  Louis,"  I  exclaimed,  "  there's  only 
one  way  to  tell  where  to  throw  that  bottle." 

"  Yesh,  Rufush,"  and  he  came  to  me  as  if  I 
were  his  only  friend  on  earth. 

"  The  bottle  will  go  through  the  window  and 
it  won't  go  through  the  mirror,"  I  began. 

"  Dammie — I  knew  that,"  he  snapped  out, 
ready  to  weep. 

"  Well — you  undo  these  things,"  nodding  to 
the  ropes  about  my  arms,  "  and  I'll  find  out 
which  opens,  and  the  one  that  opens  is  the  win- 
dow, and  you  can  throw  out  the  bottle.'' 

''  The  very  thing,  Rufush,  wise — sh — head — 
old — old — ol*  solemncholy,"  and  he  ripped  the 
ropes  off  me. 

Now  I  offer  no  excuse  for  what  I  did.  I  could 
have  opened  that  window  and  let  myself  out 
some   distance  ahead   of  the  bottle,  without  in- 


Louis  Pays  me  Back  325 

volving  Louis  and  his  gang  in  greater  mischief. 
What  I  did  was  not  out  of  spite  to  the  governor 
of  a  rival  company  ;  but  mischief,  as  I  said,  was 
in  the  very  air.  Besides,  the  knaves  had  delayed 
me  far  into  midnight,  and  I  had  no  scruples  about 
giving  each  twenty-four  hours  in  the  fort  guard- 
room. I  took  a  precautionary  inspection  of  the 
window-sash.  Yes,  I  was  sure  I  could  leap 
through,  carrying  out  sash  and  all. 

"  Hurry  —  ol'  tombshtone  —  governor  — sh— 
comin',"  urged  Louis. 

I  made  towards  the  window  and  fumbled  at  the 

sash. 

"  This  doesn't  open,"  said  I,  which  was  quite 
true,  for  I  did  not  try  to  budge  it.  Then  I 
went  across  to  the  mirror.     "  Neither  does  this," 

said  L 

*'  Wha'— wha'— '11— we  do— Rufush  ?  " 
''  I'll  tell  you.  You  can  jump  through  a  window 
but  not  through  a  glass.  Now  you  count— one 
two—  three,"— this  to  the  red-faced  man—''  and 
when  you  say  'three'  I'll  give  a  run  and  jump. 
If  I  fall  back,  you'll  know  it's  the  mirror,  and  fling 
the    bottle    quick    through    the   other.     Ready, 

count ! " 

''  One,"  said  the   red-faced  man. 

Louis  raised  his  arm  and  I  prepared  for  a  dash. 

''Two!  " 

Louis  brought  back  his  arm  to  gain  stronger 

sweep. 

*'  Three  ! " 

I  gave  a  leap  and  made  as  though   I  had  fallen 


326  Lords  of  the  North 

back.  There  was  the  pistol-shot  splintering  of 
bottle  and  mirror  crashing  down  to  the  floor. 
The  window  frame  gave  with  a  burst,  and  I  was 
outside  rushing  past  the  sleepy  sentinel,  who 
poured  out  a  volley  of  curses  after  me. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   DAY   OF   RECKONING 

As  well  play  pussy-wants-a-corner  with  a  tiger 
as  make-believe  war  with  an  Indian.  In  both 
cases  the  fun  may  become  ghastly  earnest  with 
no  time  for  cry-quits.  So  it  was  with  the  great 
fur-trading  companies  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century.  Each  held  the  Indian  in  subjection  and 
thought  to  use  him  with  daring  impunity  against 
its  rival.  And  each  was  caught  in  the  meshes  of 
its  ov/n  merry  game. 

I,  as  a  Nor'-Wester,  of  course,  consider  that  the 
lawless  acts  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  had  been  for 
three  years  educating  the  natives  up  to  the 
tragedy  of  June  19,  1816.  But  this  is  wholly  a 
pardsan  opinion.  Certainly  both  companies  have 
lied  outrageously  about  the  results  of  their  quar- 
rels.  The  truth  is  Hudson's  Bay  and  Nor'-West- 
ers  were  playing  war  with  the  Indian.  Conse- 
quences having  exceeded  all  calculation,  both 
companies  would  fain  free  themselves  of  blame. 

For  instance,  it  has  been  said  the  Hudson's 
Bay  people  had  no  intention  of  intercepting  the 
North-West  brigade  bound  up  the  Red  and 
Assiniboine  for  the  interior— this  assertion  despite 
the  fact  our  rivals  had  pillaged  every  North-West 

327 


328  Lords  of  the  North 

fort  that  could  be  attacked.  Now  I  acknowledge 
the  Nor'-Westers  disclaim  hostile  purpose  in  the 
rally  of  three  hundred  Bois-BruUs  to  the  Por- 
tage ;  but  this  sits  not  well  with  the  warlike 
appearance  of  these  armed  plain  rangers,  who 
sallied  forth  to  protect  the  Fort  William  express. 
Nor  does  it  agree  with  the  expectations  of  the 
Indian  rabble,  who  flocked  on  our  rear  like  carrion 
birds  keen  for  the  spoils  of  battle.  Both  com- 
panies had — as  it  were — leveled  and  cocked  their 
weapon.  To  send  it  off  needed  but  a  spark,  and 
a  slight  misunderstanding  ignited  that  spark. 

My  arrival  at  the  Portage  had  the  instantaneous 
effect  of  sending  two  strong  battalions  of  Bois- 
BriiUs  hot-foot  across  country  to  meet  the  Fort 
William  express  before  it  could  reach  Fort 
Douglas.  They  were  to  convoy  it  overland  to  a 
point  on  the  Assiniboine  where  it  could  be  re- 
shipped.  To  the  second  of  these  parties,  I 
attached  myself.  I  was  anxious  to  attempt  a 
visit  to  Hamilton.  There  was  some  one  else 
whom  I  hoped  to  find  at  Fort  Douglas  ;  so  I  re- 
fused to  rest  at  the  Portage,  though  I  had  been 
in  my  saddle  almost  constantly  for  twenty  days. 

When  we  set  out,  I  confess  I  did  not  like  the 
look  of  things.  Those  Indians  smeared  with 
paint  and  decked  out  with  the  feathered  war-cap 
kept  increasing  to  our  rear.  There  were  the 
eagles  !  Where  was  the  carcass  ?  The  presence 
of  these  sinister  fellows,  hot  with  the  lust  of 
blood,  had  ominous  significance.  Among  the 
half-breeds  there  was  unconcealed  excitement. 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  329 

Shortly  before  we  struck  off  the  Assiniboine 
trail  northward  for  the  Red,  in  order  to  meet  the 
expected  brigade  beyond  Fort  Douglas,  some  of 
our  people  slipped  back  to  the  Indian  rabble. 
When  they  reappeared,  they  were  togged  out  in 
native  war-gear  with  too  many  tomahawks  and 
pistols  for  the  good  of  those  who  might  interfere 
with  our  mission.  There  was  no  misunderstand- 
ing the  ugly  temper  of  the  men.  Here,  I  wish  to 
testify  that  explicit  orders  were  given  for  the 
forces  to  avoid  passing  near  Fort  Douglas,  or  in 
any  way  provoking  conflict.  There  was  placed 
in  charge  of  our  division  the  most  powerful  plain- 
ranger  in  the  service  of  the  company,  the  one  per- 
son of  all  others,  who  might  control  the  natives  in 
case  of  an  outbreak — and  that  man  was  Cuthbert 
Grant.  Pierre,  the  minstrel,  and  six  clerks  were 
also  in  the  party  ;  but  what  could  a  handful  of 
moderate  men  do  with  a  horde  of  Indians  and 
Metis  wrought  up  to  a  fury  of  revenge  ? 

"  Now,  deuce  take  those  rascals  !  What  are 
they  doing  ?  "  exclaimed  Grant  angrily,  as  we  left 
the  river  trail  and  skirted  round  a  slough  of  Frog 
Plains  on  the  side  remote  from  Fort  Douglas. 
Our  forces  were  following  in  straggling  disorder. 
The  first  battalions  of  the  Bois-Brules,  which  had 
already  rounded  the  marsh,  were  now  in  the 
settlement  on  Red  River  bank.  It  was  to  them 
that  Grant  referred.  Commanding  a  halt  and 
raising  his  spy-glass,  he  took  an  anxious  survey  of 
the  foreground. 

''  There's  something  seriously  wrong,"  he  said. 


330  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Strikes  me  we're  near  a  powder  mine  !  Here, 
Gillespie,  you  look!  "  He  handed  the  field-glass 
to  me. 

A  great  commotion  was  visible  among  the  set- 
tlers. Ox-carts  packed  with  people  were  jolting 
in  hurried  confusion  towards  Fort  Douglas. 
Behind,  tore  a  motley  throng  of  men,  women  and 
children,  running  like  a  frightened  flock  of  sheep. 
Whatever  the  cause  of  alarm,  our  men  were  not 
molesting  them  ;  for  I  watched  the  horsemen 
proceeding  leisurely  to  the  appointed  rendezvous, 
till  the  last  rider  disappeared  among  the  woods  of 
the  river  path. 

''  Scared  !  Badly  scared  !  That's  all,  Grant," 
said  I.  "  You've  no  idea  what  wild  stories  are 
going  the  rounds  of  the  settlement  about  the 
Bois-BriiUs  ! 

"  And  you've  no  idea,  young  man,  what  wild 
stories  are  going  the  rounds  of  the  Bois-Brules 
about  the  settlement,"  was  Grant's  moody  reply. 

My  chance  acquaintance  with  the  Assiniboine 
encampment  had  given  me  some  idea,  but  I  did 
not  tell  Grant  so. 

""  Perhaps  they've  taken  a  few  old  fellows  pris- 
oners to  ensure  the  fort's  good  behavior,  while 
we  save  our  bacon,"  I  suggested. 

**  If  they  have,  those  Highlanders  will  go  to 
Fort  Douglas  shining  bald  as  a  red  ball,"  an- 
swered the  plain-ranger. 

In  this,  Grant  did  his  people  injustice  ;  for  of 
those  prisoners  taken  by  the  advance  guard,  not  a 
hair  of  their  heads  was  injured.     The  warden  was 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  331 

nervously  apprehensive.  This  was  unusual  with 
him  ;  and  I  have  since  wondered  if  his  dark  fore- 
bodings arose  from  better  knowledge  of  the 
Bois-Brules  than  I  possessed,  or  from  some 
premonition. 

**  There'd  be  some  reason  for  uneasiness,  if  you 
weren't  here  to  control  them,  Grant,"  said  I, 
nodding  towards  the  Indians  and  Metis. 

"  One  man  against  a  host !  What  can  I  do  ?  " 
he  asked  gloomily. 

"  Good  gracious,  man  !  Do  !  Why,  do  what 
you  came  to  do  !  Whatever's  the  matter  with 
you  i 

The  swarthy  face  had  turned  a  ghastly,  yellow- 
ish tint  and  he  did  not  answer. 

**  Ton  my  honor,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Are  you 
ill,  man  ?  " 

''  'Tisn't  that !  When  I  went  to  sleep,  last 
night,  there  were — corpses  all  round  me.  I 
thought  I  was  in  a  charnel  house  and " 

*'  Good  gracious,  Grant ! "  I  shuddered  out. 
"  Don't  you  go  off  your  head  next  !  Leave  that 
for  us  green  chaps  !  Besides,  the  Indians  were 
raising  stench  enough  with  a  dog-stew  to  fill  any 
brain  with  fumes.  For  goodness'  sake,  let's  go 
on,  meet  those  fellows  with  the  brigade,  secure 
that  express  and  get  off  this  *  powder  mine  ' — as 
you  call  it." 

"  By  all  means  !  "  Grant  responded,  giving  the 
order,  and  we  moved  forward  but  only  at  snail 
pace ;  for  I  think  he  wanted  to  give  the  settlers 
plenty  of  time  to  reach  the  fort, 


332  Lords  of  the  North 

By  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  had  almost 
rounded  the  slough  and  were  gradually  closing 
towards  the  wooded  ground  of  the  river  bank. 
We  were  within  ear-shot  of  the  settlers.  They 
were  flying  past  with  terrified  cries  of  "  The  half- 
breeds !  The  half-breeds!  "  when  I  heard  Grant 
groan  from  sheer  alarm  and  mutter — 

"  Look  !  Look  !  The  lambs  coming  to  meet 
the  wolves  ! " 

To  this  day  I  cannot  account  for  the  madness 
of  the  thing.  There,  some  twenty,  or  thirty 
Hudson's  Bay  men — mere  youths  most  of  them 
— were  coming  with  all  speed  to  head  us  off  from 
the  river  path,  at  a  wooded  point  called  Seven 
Oaks.  What  this  pigmy  band  thought  it  could 
do  against  our  armed  men,  I  do  not  know.  The 
blunder  on  their  part  was  so  unexpected  and  in- 
excusable, it  never  dawned  on  us  the  panic-stricken 
settlers  had  spread  a  report  of  raid,  and  these 
poor  valiant  defenders  had  come  out  to  protect 
the  colony.  If  that  be  the  true  explanation  of 
their  rash  conduct  in  tempting  conflict,  what  were 
they  thinking  about  to  leave  the  walls  of  their 
fort  during  danger  ?  My  own  opinion  is  that 
with  Lord  Selkirk's  presumptuous  claims  to  ex- 
clusive possession  in  Red  River  and  the  recent 
high-handed  success  of  the  Hudson's  Bay,  the 
men  of  Fort  Douglas  were  so  flushed  with  pride 
they  did  not  realize  the  risk  of  a  brush  with  the 
Bois-Brulis,  Much,  too,  may  be  attributed  to 
Governor  Semple's  inexperience  ;  but  it  was  very 
evident  the   purpose   of    the    force    deliberately 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  333 

blocking  our  path  was  not  peaceable.  If  the 
Hudson's  Bay  blundered  in  coming  out  to  chal- 
lenge us,  so  did  we,  I  frankly  admit  ;  for  we  re- 
garded the  advance  as  an  audacious  trick  to  hold 
us  back  till  the  Fort  William  express  could  be 
captured. 

Now  that  the  thing  he  feared  had  come,  all 
hesitancy  vanished  from  Grant's  manner.  Steeled 
and  cool  like  the  leader  he  was,  he  sternly  com- 
manded the  surging  Metis  to  keep  back.  Strag- 
gling Indians  and  half-breeds  dashed  to  our  fore- 
ranks  with  the  rush  of  a  tempest  and  chafed  hotly 
against  the  warden.  At  a  word  from  Grant,  the 
men  swung  across  the  enemy's  course  sickle-shape  ; 
but  they  were  furious  at  this  disciplined  restraint. 
From  horn  to  horn  of  the  crescent,  rode  the  plain- 
ranger,  lashing  horses  back  to  the  circle  and  shak- 
ing his  fist  in  the  quailing  face  of  many  a  bold 
rebel. 

Both  sides  advanced  within  a  short  distance  of 
each  other.  We  could  see  that  Governor  Semple, 
himself,  was  leading  the  Hudson's  Bay  men. 
Immediately,  Boucher,  a  Xorth-West  clerk,  was 
sent  forward  to  parley.  Now,  I  hold  the  Nor'- 
Westers  would  not  have  done  that  if  their  pur- 
pose had  been  hostile  ;  but  Boucher  rode  out  wav- 
ing his  hand  and  calling — 

•'  What  do  you  want  ?     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"What  do  you  want,  yourself?"  came  Gov- 
ernor Semple's  reply  with  some  heat  and  not  a 
little  insolence. 

"  We    want    our    fort,"    demanded    Boucher, 


334  Lords  of  the  North 

slightly  taken  aback,  but  thoroughly  angered. 
His  horse  was  prancing  restively  within  pistol 
range  of  the  governor. 

"  Go  to  your  fort,  then  !  Go  to  your  fort !  "  re- 
turned Semple  with  stinging  contempt  in  manner 
and  voice. 

He  might  as  well  have  told  us  to  go  to  Gehenna ; 
for  the  fort  was  scattered  to  the  four  winds. 

"The  fool!"  muttered  Grant.  ''The  fool! 
Let  him  answer  for  the  consequences.  Their 
blood  be  on  their  own  heads." 

Whether  the  Bois-Brulcs,  who  had  lashed  their 
horses  into  a  lather  of  foam  and  were  cursing  out 
threats  in  the  ominous  undertone  that  precedes 
a  storm-burst,  now  encroached  upon  the  neutral 
ground  in  spite  of  Grant,  or  were  led  gradually 
forward  by  the  warden  as  the  Hudson's  Bay  gov- 
ernor's hostility  increased,  I  did  not  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  moment  observe.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, while  the  quarrel  between  the  Hudson's  Bay 
governor  and  the  North-West  clerk  was  becoming 
more  furious,  our  surging  cohorts  were  closing  in 
on  the  little  band  like  an  irresistible  tidal  wave. 
I  could  make  out  several  Hudson's  Bay  faces,  that 
seemed  to  remind  me  of  my  Fort  Douglas  visit; 
but  of  the  rabble  of  Xor'-Westers  and  Bois-Briiles 
disguised  in  hideous  war-gear,  I  dare  avow  not 
twenty  of  us  were  recognizable. 

"Miserable  rogue!"  Boucher  was  shouting, 
utterly  beside  himself  with  rage  and  flourishing 
his  gun  directly  over  the  governor's  head,  "  ^Miser- 
able  rogue  !    Why  have  you  destroyed  our  fort  ?  " 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  335 

"  Call  him  off,  Grant  I  Call  him  off,  or  it's  all 
up  !  "  I  begged,  seeing  the  parley  go  from  bad  to 
worse  ;  but  Grant  was  busy  with  the  Bois-BruUs 
and  did  not  hear. 

''  Wretch  !  "  Governor  Semple  exclaimed  in  a 
loud  voice.  "  Dare  you  to  speak  so  to  me  I  "  and 
he  caught  Boucher's  bridle,  throwing  the  horse 
back  on  its  haunches. 

Boucher,  agile  as  a  cat,  slipped  to  the  ground. 

"Arrest  him,  men  I  "  commanded  the  governor. 
"  Arrest  him  at  once  I  " 

But  the  clerk  was  around  the  other  side  of  the 
horse,  with  his  gun  leveled  across  its  back. 

Whether,  when  Boucher  jumped  down,  our 
bloodthirsty  knaves  thought  him  shot  and  broke 
from  Grant's  control  to  be  avenged,  or  whether 
Lieutenant  Holt  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  at  that  un- 
fortunate juncture  discharged  his  weapon  by  acci- 
dent, will  never  be  known. 

Instantaneously,  as  if  by  signal,  our  men  with  a 
yell  burst  from  the  ranks,  leaped  from  their  saddles 
and  using  horses  as  breast-work,  fired  volley  after 
volley  into  the  governor's  party.  The  neighing 
and  plunging  of  the  frenzied  horses  added  to  the 
tumult.  The  Hudson's  Bay  men  were  shouting 
out  incoherent  protest  ;  but  what  they  said  was 
drowned  in  the  shrill  war-cry  of  the  Indians.  Just 
for  an  instant,  I  thought  I  recognized  one  partic- 
ular voice  in  that  shrieking  babel,  which  flashed 
back  memory  of  loud,  derisive  laughter  over  a 
camp  fire  and  at  the  buffalo  hunt ;  but  all  else  was 
forgotten  in  the  terrible  consciousness  that  our 


33^  Lords  of  the  North 

men's   murderous   onslaught   was    deluging    the 
prairie  with  innocent  blood. 

Throwing  himself  between  the  Bois-BruUs  and 
the  retreating  band,  the  warden  implored  his 
followers  to  grant  truce.  As  well  plead  with  wild 
beasts.  The  half-breeds  were  deaf  to  commands, 
and  in  vain  their  leader  argued  with  blows.  The 
shooting  had  been  of  a  blind  sort,  and  few  shots 
did  more  than  wound  ;  but  the  natives  were 
venting  the  pent-up  hate  of  three  years  and  would 
give  no  quarter.  From  musketry  volleys  the 
fight  had  become  hand-to-hand  butchery. 

I  had  dismounted  and  was  beating  the  scoun- 
drels back  with  the  butt  end  of  my  gun,  begging, 
commanding,  abjuring  them  to  desist,  when  a 
Hudson's  Bay  youth  swayed  forward  and  fell 
wounded  at  my  feet.  There  was  the  baffled,  an- 
guished scream  of  some  poor  wounded  fellow 
driven  to  bay,  and  I  saw  Laplante  across  the  field, 
covered  with  blood,  reeling  and  staggering  back 
from  a  dozen  red-skin  furies,  who  pressed  upon 
their  fagged  victim,  snatching  at  his  throat  like 
hounds  at  the  neck  of  a  beaten  stag.  With  a 
bound  across  the  prostrate  form  of  the  youth,  I 
ran  to  the  Frenchman's  aid.  Louis  saw  me  com- 
ing and  struck  out  so  valiantly,  the  wretched 
cowards  darted  back  just  as  I  have  seen  a  miser- 
able pack  of  open-mouthed  curs  dodge  the  last 
desperate  sweep  of  antlered  head.  That  gave  me 
my  chance,  and  I  fell  on  their  rear  with  all  the 
might  I  could  put  in  my  muscle,  bringing  the  flat 
of  my  gun  down  with  a  crash  on  crested  head- 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  337 

toggery,  and  striking  right  and  left  at  Louis' 
assailants. 

"  Ah — inon  Dieu — comrade,"  sobbed  Louis, 
falling  in  my  arms  from  sheer  exhaustion,  while 
the  tears  trickled  down  in  a  white  furrow  over  his 
blood-splashed  cheeks,  ''  mon  Dieii — comrade,  but 
you  pay  me  back  generous  !  " 

"Tutts,  man,  this  is  no  time  for  settling  old 
scores  and  playing  the  grand  !  Run  for  your  life. 
Run  to  the  woods  and  swim  the  river  !  "  With 
that,  I  flung  him  from  me ;  for  I  heard  the  main 
body  of  our  force  approaching.  "  Run,"  I  urged, 
giving  the  Frenchman  a  push. 

"  The  run — ha — ha — my  old  spark,"  laughed 
Louis  with  a  tearful,  lack-life  sort  of  mirth,  **  the 
run — it  has  all  run  out,"  and  with  a  pitiful  reel 
down  he  fell  in  a  heap. 

I  caught  him  under  the  armpits,  hoisted  him  to 

my  shoulders,  and  made  with  all  speed  for   the 

wooded  river  bank.     My  pace  was  a  tumble  more 

than  a  run  down  the  river  cliff,  but  I  left  the  man 

at  the  very  water's  edge,  where  he  could  presently 

strike  out  for  the  far  side  and  regain  Fort  Douglas 

by   swimming  across  again.     Then   I  hurried  to 

the  battle-field   in  search  of  the  wounded  youth 

whom  I  had  left.     As  I  bent  above  him,  the  poor 

lad    rolled    over,    gazing    up    piteously  with    the 

death-look   on   his    face ;    and    I    recognized   the 

young  Nor'-Wester  who  had  picked   flowers  with 

me  for  Frances  Sutherland  and  afterwards  deserted 

to    the   Hudson's    Bay.     The   boy    moaned  and 

moved  his  lips  as  if  speaking,  but  I    heard  no 
22 


338  Lords  of  the  North 

sound.  Stooping  on  one  knee,  I  took  his  head 
on  the  other  and  bent  to  Hsten  ;  but  he  swooned 
away.  Afraid  to  leave  him — for  the  savages  were 
wreaking  indescribable  barbarities  on  the  fallen — 
I  picked  him  up.  His  arms  and  head  fell  back 
limply  as  if  he  were  dead,  and  holding  him  thus, 
I  again  dashed  for  the  fringe  of  woods.  Rogers 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  staggered  against  me 
wounded,  with  both  hands  thrown  up  ready  to 
surrender.  He  was  pleading  in  broken  French 
for  mercy  ;  but  two  half-breeds,  one  with  cocked 
pistol,  the  other  with  knife,  rushed  upon  him.  I 
turned  away  that  I  might  not  see  ;  but  the  man's 
unavailing  entreaties  yet  ring  in  my  ears.  Farther 
on,  Governor  Semple  lay,  with  lacerated  arm  and 
broken  thigh.  He  was  calling  to  Grant,  '*  I'm 
not  mortally  wounded  !  If  you  could  get  me 
conveyed  to  the  fort  I  think  I  would  live  !  " 

Then  I  got  away  from  the  field  and  laid  my 
charge  in  the  woods.  Poor  lad  !  The  pallor  of 
death  was  on  every  feature.  Tearing  open  his 
coat  and  taking  letters  from  an  inner  pocket  to 
send  to  relatives,  I  saw  a  knife-stab  in  his  chest, 
which  no  mortal  could  survive.  Battle  is  pitiless. 
I  hurriedly  left  the  dying  boy  and  went  back  to 
the  living,  ordering  a  French  half-breed  to  guard 
him. 

"  See  that  no  one  mutilates  this  body,"  said  I, 
**and  I'll  reward  you." 

My  shout  seemed  to  recall  the  lad's  conscious- 
ness. Whether  he  fully  understood  the  terrible 
significance  of  my  words,  I  could  not  tell ;  but  he 


A  Day  of  Reckoning  339 

opened  his  eyes  with  a  reproachful  glazed  stare ; 
and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him. 

Knowing  Grant  would  have  difficulty  in  obtain- 
ing carriers  for  Governor  Semple,  and  only  too 
anxious  to  gain  access  to  Fort  Douglas,  I  ran  with 
haste  towards  the  recumbent  form  of  the  fallen 
leader.  Grant  was  at  some  distance  scouring  the 
field  for  reliable  men,  and  while  I  was  yet  twenty 
or  thirty  yards  away  an  Indian  glided  up. 

''  Dog !  "  he  hissed  in  the  prostrate  man's  face. 
*'  You  have  caused  all  this  !  You  shall  not  live  1 
Dog  that  you  are  !  " 

Then  something  caught  my  feet.  I  stumbled 
and  fell.  There  was  the  flare  of  a  pistol  shot  in 
Governor  Semple's  face  and  a  slight  cry.  The 
next  moment  I  was  by  his  side.  The  shot  had 
taken  effect  in  the  breast.  The  body  was  yet  hot 
with  life ;  but  there  was  neither  breath,  nor  heart 
beat. 

A  few  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  band  gained  hiding 
in  the  shrubbery  and  escaped  by  swimming  across 
to  the  east  bank  of  the  Red,  but  the  remnant  tried 
to  reach  the  fort  across  the  plain.  Calling  me. 
Grant,  now  utterly  distracted,  directed  his  efforts 
to  this  quarter.  I  with  difficulty  captured  my 
horse  and  galloped  off  to  join  the  warden.  Our 
riders  were  circling  round  something  not  far  from 
the  fort  walls  and  Grant  was  tearing  over  the 
prairie,  commanding  them  to  retire.  It  seems, 
when  Governor  Semple  discovered  the  strength 
of  our  forces,  he  sent  some  of  his  men  back 
to  Fort  Douglas  for  a  field-piece.     Poor  Semple 


340  Lords  of  the  North 

with  his  European  ideas  of  Indian  warfare !  The 
Bois-Brules  did  not  wait  for  that  field-piece.  The 
messengers  had  trundled  it  out  only  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  gateway,  when  they  met  the  fugi- 
tives flying  back  with  news  of  the  massacre. 
Under  protection  of  the  cannon,  the  men  made 
a  plucky  retreat  to  the  fort,  though  the  Bois- 
Bruits  harassed  them  to  the  very  walls.  This 
disappearance — or  rather  extermination — of  the 
enemy,  as  well  as  the  presence  of  the  field-gun, 
which  was  a  new  terror  to  the  Indians,  gave 
Grant  his  opportunity.  He  at  once  rounded  the 
men  up  and  led  them  off  to  Frog  Plains,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  swamp.  Here  we  encamped  for 
the  night,  and  were  subsequently  joined  by  the 
first  division  of  Bois-Bruie's, 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   IROQUOIS   PLAYS   HIS   LAST   CARD 

The  Bois-Brules  and  Indian  marauders,  who 
gathered  to  our  camp,  were  drunk  with  the  most 
intoxicating  of  all  stimulants — human  blood. 
This  flush  of  victory  excited  the  redskins'  vanity 
to  a  boastful  frenzy.  There  was  wild  talk  of  wip- 
ing the  pale-face  out  of  existence  ;  and  if  a  weaker 
man  than  Grant  had  been  at  the  head  of  the 
forces,  not  a  white  in  the  settlement  would  have 
escaped  massacre.  In  spite  of  the  bitterness  to 
which  the  slaughter  at  Seven  Oaks  gave  rise,  I 
think  all  fair-minded  people  have  acknowledged 
that  the  settlers  owed  their  lives  to  the  warden's 
efforts. 

That  night  pandemonium  itself  could  not 
have  presented  a  more  hideous  scene  than  our 
encampment.  The  lust  of  blood  is  abhorrent 
enough  in  civilized  races,  but  in  Indian  tribes, 
whose  unrestrained,  hard  life  abnormally  develops 
the  instincts  of  the  tiger,  it  is  a  thing  that  may 
not  be  portrayed.  Let  us  not,  with  the  depre- 
ciatory hypocrisy,  characteristic  of  our  age,  befool 
ourselves  into  any  belief  that  barbaric  practices 
were  more  humane  than  customs  which  are  the 
flower  of  civilized  centuries.     Let  us  be  truthful. 

341 


342  Lords  of  the  North 

Scientific  cruelty  may  do  its  worst  with  intricate 
armaments  ;  but  the  blood-thirst  of  the  Indian 
assumed  the  ghastly  earnest  of  victors  drinking 
the  warm  life-blood  of  dying  enemies  and  of  tor- 
turers laving  hands  in  a  stream  yet  hot  from 
pulsing  hearts. 

Decked  out  in  red-stained  trophies  with  scalps 
dangling  from  their  waists,  the  natives  darted 
about  like  blood-whetted  beasts  ;  and  the  half- 
breeds  were  little  better,  except  that  they  thirsted 
more  for  booty  than  life.  There  was  loud  vaunt- 
ing over  the  triumph,  the  ignorant  rabble  imagin- 
ing their  warriors  heroes  of  a  great  battle,  in- 
stead of  the  murderous  plunderers  they  were. 
Pierre,  the  rhymester,  according  to  his  wont,  broke 
out  in  jubilant  celebration  of  the  half-breeds'  feat :  * 

Ho-ho  !  List  you  now  to  a  tale  of  truth 

Which  I,  Pierre,  the  rhymester,  proudly  sing, 

Of  the  Bois-Brules,  whose  deeds  dismay 
The  hearts  of  the  soldiers  serving  the  king  ! 

Swift  o'er  the  plain  rode  our  warriors  brave 
To  meet  the  gay  voyageurs  come  from  the  sea. 

■^  It  should  scarcely  be  necessary-  for  the  author  to  state 
that  these  are  the  sentiments  of  the  Indian  poet  expressing 
the  views  of  the  savage  towards  the  white  man,  and  not  the 
white  man  towards  the  savage.  The  poem  is  as  close  a 
translation  of  the  original  ballad  sung  by  Pierre  in  Metis 
dialect  the  night  of  the  massacre,  as  could  be  given.  The 
Indian  nature  is  more  in  harmony  with  the  hawk  and 
the  coyote  than  with  the  white  man  ;  hence  the  refer- 
ences. Other  thoughts  embodied  in  this  crude  lay  are 
taken  directly  from  the  refrains  of  the  trappers  chanted  at 
that  time. 


The  Iroquois  Plays  His  Last  Card     343 

Out  came  the  bold  band  that  had  pillaged  our  land, 
And  we  taught  them  the  plain  is  the  home  of  the  free. 

We  were  passing  along  to  the  landing-place, 
Three  hostile  whites  we  bound  on  the  trail. 

The  enemy  came  with  a  shout  of  acclaim, 

We  flung  back  their  taunts  with  the  shriek  of  a  gale. 

'•They  have  come  to  attack  us,"  our  people  cry. 
Our  cohorts  spread  out  in  a  crescent  horn, 

Their  path  we  bar  in  a  steel  scimitar, 
And  their  empty  threats  we  flout  with  scorn. 

They  halt  in  the  face  of  a  dauntless  foe, 

They  spit  out  their  venom  of  baffled  rage  ! 
Honor,  our  breath  to  the  very  death  ! 

So  we  proffer  them  peace,  or  a  battle-gage. 

The  governor  shouts  to  his  soldiers,  "  Draw  !  " 
'Tis  the  enemy  strikes  the  first,  fateful  blow  ! 

Our  men  break  from  line,  for  the  battle-wine 
Of  a  fighting  race  has  a  fier}-  glow. 

The  governor  thought  himself  mighty  in  power. 

The   shock   of  his  strength— Ha-ha  !— should  be  known 
From  the  land  of  the  sea  to  the  prairie  free 

And  all  free  men  should  be  overthrown  !  * 

But  naked  and  dead  on  the  plain  lies  he, 
Where  the  carrion  hawk,  and  the  sly  coyote 

Greedily  feast  on  the  great  and  the  least, 
Without  respect  for  a  lord  of  note. 

The  governor  thought  himself  mighty  in  power. 

He  thought  to  enslave  the  Bois-B7'ides, 
"Ha-ha,"  laughed  the  hawk.     Ho-ho  !    Let  him  mock. 

•'  Plain  rangers  ride  forth  to  slay,  to  slay." 

*  Governor  Semple  unadvisedly  boasted  that  the  shock  of 
his  power  would  be  felt  from  Montreal  to  Athabasca. 


344  Lords  of  the  North 

Whose  cry  outpierces  the  night-bird's  note  ? 

Whose  voice  mourns  sadly  through  sighing  trees  ? 
What  spirits  wail  to  the  prairie  gale  ? 

Who  tells  his  woes  to  the  evening  breeze  ? 

Ha-ha  !    We  know,  though  we  tell  it  not. 

We  fought  with  them  till  none  remained. 
The  coyote  knew,  and  his  hungry  crew 

Licked  clean  the  grass  where  the  turf  was  stained. 

Ho-ho  !     List  you  all  to  my  tale  of  truth. 

'Tis  I,  Pierre,  the  rhymester,  this  glory  tell 
Of  freedom  saved  and  brave  hands  laved 

In  the  blood  of  tyrants  who  fought  and  fell ! 

The  whole  scene  was  repugnant  beyond  endur- 
ance. My  ears  were  so  filled  with  the  death  cries 
heard  in  the  afternoon,  I  had  no  relish  for  Pierre's 
crude  recital  of  what  seemed  to  him  a  glorious 
conquest.  I  could  not  rid  my  mind  of  that  dying 
boy's  sad  face.  Many  half-breeds  were  preparing 
to  pillage  the  settlement.  Intending  to  protect 
the  Sutherland  home  and  seek  the  dead  lad's 
body,  I  borrowed  a  fresh  horse  and  left  the  tumult 
of  the  camp. 

I  made  a  detour  of  the  battle-field  in  order  to 
reach  the  Sutherland  homestead  before  night.  I 
might  have  saved  myself  the  trouble  ;  for  every 
movable  object — to  the  doors  and  window  sashes — 
had  been  taken  from  the  little  house,  whether  by 
father  and  daughter  before  going  to  the  fort,  or 
by  the  marauders,  I  did  not  know. 

It  was  unsafe  to  return  by  the  wooded  river 
trail  after  dark  and  I  struck  directly  to  the  clear- 
ing and  followed  the  path  parallel  to  the  bush. 


The  Iroquois  Plays  His  Last  Card     345 

When  I  reached  Seven  Oaks,  I  was  first  apprised 
of  my  whereabouts  by  my  horse  pricking  forward 
his  ears  and  sniffing  the  air  uncannily.    I  tightened 
rein  and  touched  him  with  the  spur,  but  he  snorted 
and  jumped  sideways  with  a   suddenness  that  al- 
most unseated  me,  then  came  to  a  stand,  shaking 
as  if  with   chill.     Something  skulked   across  the 
trail  and  gained  cover  in  the  woods.     With  a  re- 
assuring pat,  I  urged  my  horse  back  towards  the 
road,  for  the  prairie  was  pitted  with  badger  and 
gopher  holes;  but  the  beast  reared,  baulked  and 
absolutely  refused  to  be  either  driven,  or  coaxed. 
"  Wise  when  men  are  fools  !  "  said  I,  dismount- 
ing.    Bringing  the  reins  over  his  head,  I  tried  to 
pull  him  forward  ;  but  he  planted  all   fours  and 
jerked  back,  almost  dragging  me  off  my  feet. 

"Are  you  possessed?"  I  exclaimed,  for  if  ever 
horror  were  plainly  expressed  by  an  animal,  it  was 
by  that  horse.  Legs  rigid,  head  bent  down,  eyes 
starting  forward  and  nostrils  blowing  in  and  out, 
he  was  a  picture  of  terror. 

Something  wriggled  in  the  thicket.  The  horse 
rose  on  his  hind  legs,  wrenched  the  rein  from  my 
hand  and  scampered  across  the  plain.  I  sent  a 
shot  into  the  bush.  There  was  a  snarl  and  a 
scurrying  through  the  underbrush. 

"  Pretty  bold  wolf !  Never  saw  a  broncho  act 
that  way  over  a  coyote  before  !  " 

I  might  as  well  find  the  body  of  the  English  lad 
before  trying  to  catch  my  horse,  so  I  walked  on. 
Suddenly,  in  the  silver-white  of  a  starry  sky,  I  saw 
what  had  terrified   the    animal.      Close    to    the 


346  Lords  of  the  North 

shrubbery  lay  the  stark  form  of  a  white  man, 
knees  drawn  upwards  and  arms  spread  out  Hke 
the  bars  of  a  cross.  Was  that  the  lad  I  had 
known  ?  I  rushed  towards  the  corpse — but  as 
quickly  turned  away.  From  downright  lack  of 
courage,  I  could  not  look  at  it ;  for  the  body  was 
mutilated  beyond  semblance  to  humanity.  Would 
that  I  had  strength  and  skill  to  paint  that  dead 
figure  as  it  was  !  Then  would  those,  who  glory 
in  the  shedding  of  blood,  glory  to  their  shame; 
and  the  pageant  of  war  be  stripped  of  all  its  false 
toggery  revealing  carnage  and  slaughter  in  their 
revolting  nakedness. 

I  could  not  look  back  to  know  if  that  were  the 
lad,  but  ran  aimlessly  towards  the  scene  of  the 
Seven  Oaks  fray.  As  I  approached,  there  was  a 
great  flapping  of  wings.  Up  rose  buzzards,  scold- 
ing in  angry  discord  at  my  interruption.  A  pack 
of  wolves  skulked  a  few  feet  off  and  eyed  me 
impatiently,  boldly  waiting  to  return  when  I  left. 
The  impudence  of  the  brutes  enraged  me  and  I 
let  go  half  a  dozen  charges,  which  sent  them  to  a 
more  respectful  distance.  Here  were  more  bodies 
like  the  first.  I  counted  eight  within  a  stone's 
throw,  and  there  were  twice  as  many  between 
Seven  Oaks  and  the  fort.  Where  they  lay,  I  could 
tell  very  well ;  for  hawks  wheeled  with  harsh  cries 
overhead  and  there  was  a  vague  movement  of 
wolfish  shapes  along  the  ground. 

What  possessed  me  to  hover  about  that  dread- 
ful scene,  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  the  fear  of 
those  creatures  returning ;  but  I  did  not  carry  a 


The  Iroquois  Plays  His  Last  Card     347 

thing  with  which  I  could  bury  the  dead.  Invol- 
untarily, I  sought  out  Rogers  and  Governor 
Semple  ;  for  I  had  seen  the  death  of  each.  It  was 
when  seeking  these,  that  I  thought  I  distinguished 
the  faintest  motion  of  one  figure  still  clothed  and 
lying  apart  from  the  others. 

The  sight  riveted  me  to  the  spot. 

Surely  it  was  a  mistake  !  The  form  could  not 
have  moved !  It  must  have  been  some  error  of 
vision,  or  trick  of  the  shadowy  starlight ;  but  I 
could  not  take  my  eyes  from  the  prostrate  form. 
Again  the  body  moved — distinctly  moved — be- 
yond possibility  of  fancy,  the  chest  heaving  up 
and  sinking  like  a  man  struggling  but  unable  to 
rise.  With  the  ghastly  dead  and  the  ravening 
wolves  all  about,  the  movement  of  that  wounded 
man  was  strangely  terrifying  and  my  knees 
knocked  with  fear,  as  I  ran  to  his  aid. 

The  man  was  an  Indian,  but  his  face  I  could 
not  see ;  for  one  hand  staunched  a  wound  in  his 
head  and  the  other  gripped  a  knife  with  which  he 
had  been  defending  himself.  My  first  thought 
was  that  he  must  be  a  Nor'-Wester,  or  his  body 
would  not  have  escaped  the  common  fate  ;  but  if 
a  Nor'-Wester,  why  had  he  been  left  on  the  field  ? 
So  I  concluded  he  was  one  of  the  camp-followers, 
who  had  joined  our  forces  for  plunder  and  come 
to  a  merited  end.  Still  he  was  a  man ;  and  I 
stooped  to  examine  him  with  a  view  to  getting 
him  on  my  horse  and  taking  him  back  to  the  camp. 
At  first  he  was  unconscious  of  my  presence. 
Gently  I  tried  to  remove  the  left  hand  from  his 


34^  Lords  of  the  North 

forehead,  but  at  the  touch,  out  struck  the  right 
hand  in  vicious  thrusts  of  the  hunting-knife,  one 
bHnd  cut  barely  missing  my  arm. 

"  Hold,  man  !  "  I  cried,  "  I'm  no  foe,  but  a 
friend !  "  and  I  caught  the  right  arm  tightly. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice,  the  left  hand  swung 
out  revealing  a  frightful  gash  ;  and  the  next  thing 
I  knew,  his  left  arm  had  encircled  my  neck  like 
the  coil  of  a  strangler,  five  fingers  were  digging 
into  the  flesh  of  my  throat  and  Le  Grand  Diable 
was  making  frantic  efforts  to  free  his  right  hand 
and  plunge  that  dagger  into  me.  The  shock  of 
the  discovery  threw  me  off  guard,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment there  was  a  struggle,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  wounded  man  fell  back,  writhing  in  pain, 
his  face  contorted  with  agony  and  hate.  I  do  not 
think  he  could  see  me.  He  must  have  been  blind 
from  that  wound.  I  stood  back,  but  his  knife 
still  cut  the  air. 

*'  Le  Grand  Diable  !  Fool !  "  I  said,  "  I  will  not 
harm  you !  I  give  you  the  white  man's  word,  I 
will  not  hurt  you  !  " 

The  right  arm  fell  limp  and  still.  Had  I,  by 
some  strange  irony,  been  led  to  this  spot  that  I 
might  witness  the  death  of  my  foe  ?  Was  this  the 
end  of  that  long  career  of  evil  ? 

"  Le  Grand  Diable ! "  I  cried,  going  a  pace 
nearer,  which  seemed  to  bring  back  the  ebbing 
life.  "  Le  Grand  Diable !  You  cannot  stay  here 
among  the  wolves.  Tell  me  whereto  find  Miriam 
and  I'll  take  you  back  to  the  camp!  Tell  me  and 
no  one  shall  harm  you  !  I  will  save  you  !  " 


The  Iroquois  Plays  His  Last  Card     349 

The  thin  lips  moved.  He  was  saying,  or  trying 
to  say,  something. 

"  Speak  louder  !  "  and  I  bent  over  him.  ''  Speak 
the  truth  and  I  take  you  to  the  camp !  " 

The  lips  were  still  moving,  but  I  could  not  hear 
a  sound. 

"  Speak  louder  !  "  I  shouted.  "  Where  is  Mir- 
iam? Where  is  the  white  woman?"  I  put  my 
ear  to  his  lips,  fearful  that  life  might  slip  away 
before  I  could  hear. 

There  was  a  snarl  through  the  glistening  set 
teeth.  The  prostrate  body  gave  an  upward  lurch. 
With  one  swift,  treacherous  thrust,  he  drove  his 
knife  into  my  coat-sleeve,  grazing  my  fore-arm. 
The  effort  cost  him  his  life.  He  sank  down  with 
a  groan.  The  sightless,  bloodshot  eyes  opened. 
Le  Grand  Diable  would  never  more  feign  death. 

I  jerked  the  knife  from  my  coat,  hurled  it  from 
me,  sprang  up  and  fled  from  the  field  as  if  it  had 
been  infected  with  a  pest,  or  I  pursued  by  fiends. 
Never  looking  back  and  with  superstitious  dread 
of  the  dead  Indian's  evil  spirit,  I  tore  on  and  on 
till,  breath-spent  and  exhausted,  I  threw  myself 
down  with  the  North-West  camp-fires  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

FORT  DOUGLAS   CHANGES   MASTERS 

I  SUPPOSE  there  are  times  in  the  life  of  every- 
one, even  the  strongest — and  I  am  not  that — 
when  a  feather's  weight  added  to  a  burden  may 
snap  power  of  endurance.  I  had  reached  that 
stage  before  encountering  Le  Grand  Diable  on 
the  field  of  massacre  at  Seven  Oaks.  With  the 
events  in  the  Mandane  country,  the  long,  hard 
ride  northward  and  this  latest  terrible  culmination 
of  strife  between  Nor'-Westers  and  Hudson's  Bay, 
the  past  month  had  been  altogether  too  hard 
packed  for  my  well-being.  The  madness  of  north- 
ern traders  no  longer  amazed  me. 

An  old  nurse  of  my  young  days,  whom  I  re- 
member chiefly  by  her  ramrod  back  and  sharp 
tongue,  used  to  say,  *'  Nerves  !  nerves  I  nothing 
but  nerves !  "  She  thanked  God  she  was  born 
before  the  doctors  had  discovered  nerves.  Though 
neurotic  theories  had  not  been  sufficiently  elab- 
orated for  me  to  ascribe  my  state  to  the  most 
refined  of  modern  ills — nervous  prostration — I  was 
aware,  as  I  dragged  over  the  prairie  with  the  horse 
at  the  end  of  a  trailing  bridle  rein,  that  something 
was  seriously  out  of  tune.  It  was  daylight  be- 
350 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     351 

fore  I  caught  the  frightened  broncho  and  no 
knock-kneed  coward  ever  shook  more,  as  I  vainly 
tried  to  vault  into  the  saddle,  and  after  a  dozen 
false  plunges  at  the  stirrup,  gave  up  the  attempt 
and  footed  it  back  to  camp.  There  was  a  daze 
between  my  eyes,  which  the  over-weary  know 
well,  and  in  the  brain-whirl,  I  could  distinguish 
only  two  thoughts,  Where  was  Miriam— and 
Father  Holland's  prediction—"  Benedicite  !  The 
Lord  shall  be  your  avenger  !  He  shall  deliver 
that  evil  one  into  the  power  of  the  punisher." 

Thus,  I  reached  the  camp,  picketed  the  horse, 
threw  myself  down  in  the  tent  and  slept  without 
a  break  from  the  morning  of  the  20th  till  mid-day 
of  the  2 1st.  I  was  awakened  by  the  Bois-Brule's 
returning  from  a  demonstration  before  the  gate- 
way of  Fort  Douglas.  Going  to  the  tent  door,  I 
saw  that  Pritchard,  one  of  the  captive  Hudson's 
Bay  men,  had  been  brought  back  from  a  con- 
ference with  the  enemy.  From  his  account,  the 
Hudson's  Bay  people  seemed  to  be  holding  out 
against  us  ;  but  the  settlers,  realizing  the  danger 
of  Indian  warfare,  to  a  man  favored  surrender. 
Had  it  not  been  for  Grant,  there  would  have  been 
no  farther  parley  ;  but  on  news  that  settlers  were 
pressing  for  capitulation,  the  warden  again  des- 
patched Pritchard  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  post.  In 
the  hope  of  gaining  access  to  Frances  Sutherland 
and  Eric  Hamilton  I  accompanied  him.  Such 
was  the  terror  prevailing  within  the  walls,  in  spite 
of  Pritchard's  assurance  regarding  my  friendly 
purpose,  admission  was  flatly  denied  me.     I  con- 


352  Lords  of  the  North 

tented  myself  with  verbal  messages  that  Hamilton 
and  Father  Holland  must  remain.  I  could  guar- 
antee their  safety.  The  same  offer  I  made  to 
Frances,  but  told  her  to  do  what  was  best  for 
herself  and  her  father.  When  Pritchard  came 
out,  I  knew  from  his  face  that  Fort  Douglas  was 
ours.  Hamilton  and  Father  Holland  would  stay, 
he  reported  ;  but  Mistress  Sutherland  bade  him 
say  that  after  Seven  Oaks  her  father  had  no 
friendly  feeling  for  Nor'-Westers,  and  she  could 
not  let  him  go  forth  alone.  Terms  were  stipu- 
lated between  the  two  companies  with  due  advan- 
tage to  our  side  from  the  recent  victory  and  the 
formal  surrender  of  Fort  Douglas  took  place  the 
following  day. 

*'  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  settlers, 
Cuthbert  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  warden  before  the 
capitulation. 

"Aye!  That's  a  question,"  was  the  grim 
response. 

"  Why  not  leave  them  in  the  fort  till  things 
quiet  down  ?  " 

"  With  all  the  Indians  of  Red  River  in  posses- 
sion of  that  fort?"  asked  Grant,  sarcastically. 
"  Were  a  few  Nor'-Westers  so  successful  in  hold- 
ing back  the  Metis  at  Seven  Oaks,  you'd  like  to 
see  that  experiment  repeated  ?  " 

"  'Twill  be  worse,  Grant,  if  you  let  them  go 
back  to  their  farms." 

"They'll  not  do  that,  if  I'm  warden  of  the 
plains,"  he  declared  with  great  determination. 
"  We'll  have  to  send  them  down  the  Red  to  the 


A, 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     353 

lake  till  that  fool  of  a  Scotch  nobleman  decides 
what  to  do  with  his  fine  colonists." 

**  But,  Grant,  you  don't  mean  to  send  them  up 
north  in  this  cold  country.  They  may  not  reach 
Hudson's  Bay  in  time  to  catch  the  company  ship 
to  Scotland!  Why,  man,  it's  sheer  murder  to 
expose  those  people  to  a  winter  up  there  without 
a  thing  to  shelter  them  !  " 

"To  my  mind,  freezing  is  not  quite  so  bad  as 
a  massacre.  If  they  won't  take  our  boats  to  the 
States,  or  Canada,  what  else  can  Nor'-Westers 
do?" 

And  what  else,  indeed  ?  I  could  not  answer 
Grant's  question,  though  I  know  every  effort 
we  made  to  induce  those  people  to  go  south  in- 
stead of  north  has  been  misrepresented  as  an  in- 
famous attempt  to  expel  Selkirk  settlers  from 
Red  River.  Truly,  I  hope  I  may  never  see  a 
sadder  sight  than  the  going  forth  of  those  col- 
onists to  the  shelterless  plain.  It  was  disastrous 
enough  for  them  to  be  driven  from  their  native 
heath ;  but  to  be  lured  away  to  this  far  country 
for  the  purpose  of  becoming  buffers  between 
rival  fur-traders,  who  would  stop  at  nothing,  and 
to  be  sacrificed  as  victims  for  their  company's 
criminal  policy — I  speak  as  a  Nor'-Wester — was 
immeasurably  cruel. 

Grant  was,  of  course,  on  hand  for  the  surren- 
der, and  he  wisely  kept  the  plain-rangers  at  a  safe 
distance.  Clerks  lined  each  side  of  the  path  to 
the  gate,  and  I  pressed  forward  for  a  glimpse  of 
Frances  Sutherland.  There  was  the  jar  of  a 
23 


354  Lords  of  the  North 

heavy  bolt  shot  back.  Confused  noises  sounded 
from  the  courtyard.  The  gates  swung  open,  and 
out  marched  the  sheriff  of  Assiniboia,  bearing  in 
one  hand  a  pole  with  a  white  sheet  tacked  to  the 
end  for  a  flag  of  truce,  and  in  the  other  the  fort 
keys.  Behind,  sullen  and  dejected,  followed  a 
band  of  Hudson's  Bay  men.  Grant  stepped  up 
to  meet  the  sheriff.  The  terms  of  capitulation 
were  again  stated,  and  there  was  some  signing  of 
paper.  Of  those  things  my  recollection  is  indis- 
tinct ;  for  I  was  straining  my  eyes  towards  the 
groups  of  settlers  inside  the  walls.  When  I 
looked  back  to  the  conferring  leaders  the  silence 
was  so  intense  a  pinfall  could  have  been  heard. 
The  keys  of  the  fort  were  being  handed  to  the 
Nor*-Westers  and  the  Hudson's  Bay  men  had 
turned  away  their  faces  that  they  might  not  see. 
The  vanquished  then  passed  quickly  to  the 
barges  at  the  river.  Each  of  the  six  drunken 
fellows,  whom  I  had  last  seen  in  the  late  Gov- 
ernor Semple's  office,  the  Highlanders  who  had 
spied  upon  me  when  I  visited  Fort  Douglas 
but  a  year  before,  the  clerks  whom  I  had  heard 
talking  that  night  in  the  great  hall,  and  many 
others  with  whom  I  had  but  a  chance  acquaint- 
ance, filed  down  to  the  river.  Seeing  all  ready, 
with  a  North-West  clerk  at  the  prow  of  each 
boat  to  warn  away  marauders,  the  men  came 
back  for  settlers  and  wounded  comrades.  I  would 
have  proffered  my  assistance  to  some  of  the  bur- 
dened people  on  the  chance  of  a  word  with 
Frances  Sutherland,  but  the  colonists   proudly 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     355 

resented  any  kind  offices  from  a  Nor'-Wester.  I 
saw  Louis  Laplante  come  limping  out,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  the  red-faced  man,  whose  eye 
quailed  when  it  met  mine.  Poor  Louis  looked 
sadly  battered,  with  his  head  in  a  white  bandage, 
one  arm  in  a  sling,  and  a  dejected  stoop  to  his 
shoulders  that  was  unusual  with  him. 

''  This  is  too  bad,  Louis,"  said  I,  hurrying 
forward.  **  I  forgot  to  send  word  about  you. 
You  might  as  well  have  stayed  in  the  fort 
till  your  wounds  healed.  Won't  you  come 
back?  " 

Louis  stole  a  furtive,  sheepish  glance  at  me, 
hung  his  head  and  looked  away  with  a  suspicion 
of  moisture  about  his  eyes. 

"  You  always  were  a  brute  to  fight  at  Laval ! 
I  might  trick  you  at  first,  but  you  always  ended 
by  giving  me  the  throw,"  he  answered  discon- 
solately, 

"  Nonsense,  Louis."  I  was  astounded  at  the 
note  of  reproach  in  his  voice.  "  We're  even  now- 
let  by-gones  be  by-gones  !  You  helped  me,  I 
helped  you.  You  trapped  me  into  the  fort,  I 
tricked  you  into  breaking  a  mirror  aud  laying  up  a 
peck  of  trouble  for  yourself.  Surely  you  don't 
treasure  any  grudge  yet  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  without  looking  at  me. 
''  I    don't    understand.     Let    us    begin    over 
again.     Come,  forget  old  scores,  come  back  to 
the  fort  till  you're  well." 

"  Pah  !"  said  Louis  with  a  sudden,  strange  im- 
patience which  I  could    not   fathom.     "  You  un- 


356  Lords  of  the  North 

derstand  some  day  and  turn  upon  me  and  strike 
and  give  me  more  throw." 

"  All  right,  comrade,  treasure  your  wrath ! 
Only  I  thought  two  men,  who  had  saved  each 
other's  lives,  might  be  friends  and  bury  old 
quarrels." 

"  You  not  know,"  he  blurted  out  in  a  broken 
voice. 

*'  Not  know  what?"  I  asked  impatiently.  "  I 
tell  you  I  forgive  all  and  I  had  thought  you 
might  do  as  much " 

"  Do  as  much  !  "  he  interrupted  fiercely.  "  O 
mon  Dieu  /  "  he  cried,  with  a  sob  that  shook  his 
frame.  *'  Take  me  away  !  Take  me  away  !  "  he 
begged  the  man  on  whose  arm  he  was  leaning; 
and  with  those  enigmatical  words  he  passed  to 
the  nearest  boat. 

While  I  was  yet  gazing  in  mute  amazement 
after  Louis  Laplante,  wondering  whether  his 
strange  emotion  were  revenge,  or  remorse,  the 
women  and  children  marched  forth  with  the  men 
protecting  each  side.  The  empty  threats  of  half- 
breeds  to  butcher  every  settler  in  Red  River  had 
evidently  reached  the  ears  of  the  women.  Some 
trembled  so  they  could  scarcely  walk  and  others 
stared  at  us  with  the  reproach  of  murder  in  their 
eyes,  gazing  in  horror  at  our  guilty  hands.  At 
last  I  caught  sight  of  Frances  Sutherland.  She 
was  well  to  the  rear  of  the  sad  procession,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  a  tall,  sturdy,  erect  man  whom  I 
recognized  as  her  father.  I  would  have  forced 
my  way  to  her  side  at  once,    but  a  swift  glance 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     357 

forbade  me.  A  gleam  of  love  flashed  to  the  gray 
eyes  for  an  instant,  then  father  and  daughter  had 
passed. 

''  Little  did  I  think,"  the  harsh,  rasping  voice 
of  the  father  was  saying,  "  that  daughter  of  mine 
would  give  her  heart  to  a  murderer.  Which  of 
these  cut-throats  may  I  claim  for  a  son  ?  " 

*'  Hush,  father,"  she  whispered.  *'  Remember 
he  warned  us  to  the  fort  and  took  me  to  Pem- 
bina."    She  was  as  pale  as  death. 

"  Aye  !  Aye  !  We're  under  obligations  to 
strange  benefactors  when  times  go  awry !  "  he 
returned  bitterly. 

*'  O  father  !    Don't !     You'll  think  differently 

when  you  know "  but  a  hulking  lout  stumbled 

between  us,  and  I  missed  the  rest. 

They  were  at  the  boats  and  an  old  Highlander 
was  causing  a  blockade  by  his  inability  to  lift  a 
great  bale  into  the  barge. 

'*  Let  me  give  you  a  lift,"  said  I,  stepping  for- 
ward and  taking  hold  of  the  thing. 

''  Friend,  or  foe  ?  "  asked  the  Scot,  before  he 
would  accept  my  aid. 

"  Friend,  of  course,"  and  I  braced  myself  to 
give  the  package  a  hoist. 

"  Hudson's  Bay,  or  Nor'-Wester  ?  "  pursued  the 
settler,  determined  to  take  no  help  from  the  hated 
enemy. 

"  Nor'-Wester,  but  what  does  that  matter  ?  A 
friend  all  the  same  !     Yo  heave  !     Up  with  it !  " 

"  Neffer  !  "  roared  the  man  in  a  towering  pas- 
sion, and  he  gave  me  a  push  that  sent  me  knock- 


358  Lords  of  the  North 

ing  into  the  crowd  on  the  landing.  Involuntarily, 
I  threw  out  my  arm  to  save  a  fall  and  caught  a 
woman's  outstretched  hand.  It  was  Frances 
Sutherland's  and  I  thrilled  with  the  message  she 
could  not  speak. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mistress  Sutherland,"  said 
I,  as  soon  as  I  could  find  speech,  and  I  step- 
ped back  tingling  with  embarrassment  and 
delight. 

*'  A  civil-tongued  young  man,  indeed,"  re- 
marked the  father,  sarcastically,  with  a  severe 
scrutiny  of  my  retreating  person.  ''  A  civil- 
tongued  young  man  to  know  your  name  so  read- 
ily, Frances!     Pray,  who  is  he?" 

"  Oh  !  Some  Nor'-Wester,"  answered  Frances, 
the  white  checks  blushing  red,  and  she  stepped 
quickly  forward  to  the  gang-plank.  "  Some  Nor'- 
Wester,  I  suppose  !  "  she  repeated  unconcernedly, 
but  the  flush  had  suffused  her  neck  and  was  not 
unnoticed  by  the  father's  keen  eyes. 

Then  they  seated  themselves  at  the  prow  be- 
side the  Nor'-Wester  appointed  to  accompany 
the  boat ;  and  I  saw  that  Louis  Laplante  was 
sitting  directly  opposite  Frances  Sutherland,  with 
•lis  eyes  fixed  on  her  face  in  a  bold  gaze,  that 
instantly  quenched  any  kindness  I  may  have  felt 
towards  him.  How  I  regretted  my  thoughtless- 
ness in  not  having  forestalled  myself  in  the 
Sutherlands'  barge.  The  next  best  thing  was  to 
go  along  with  Grant,  who  was  preparing  to  ride 
on  the  river  bank  and  escort  the  company  beyond 
all  danger. 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     359 

"  You  coming  too  ?  "  asked  Grant  sharply,  as  I 
joined  him. 

*'  If  you  don't  mind." 

"  Think  two  are  necessary  ?  " 

*'  Not  when  one  of  the  two  is  Grant,"  I  an- 
swered, which  pleased  him,  '*  but  as  my  heart 
goes  down  the  lake  with  those  barges " 

"  Hut-tutt — man,"  interrupted  Grant.  "  War's 
bad  enough  without  love  ;  but  come  if  you  like." 

As  the  boats  sheered  off  from  the  wharf,  Grant 
and  I  rode  along  the  river  trail.  I  saw  Frances 
looking  after  me  with  surprise,  and  I  think  she 
must  have  known  my  purpose,  though  she  did 
not  respond  when  I  signalled  to  her. 

"  Stop  that ! "  commanded  Grant  peremptorily. 
"You  did  that  very  slyly,  Rufus,  but  if  they  see 
you,  there'll  be  all  sorts  of  suspicion  about  collu- 
sion." 

The  river  path  ran  into  the  bush,  winding  in 
and  out  of  woods,  so  we  caught  only  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  boats  ;  but  I  fancied  her  eyes  were 
ever  towards  the  bank  where  we  rode,  and  I  could 
distinctly  see  that  the  Frenchman's  face  was 
buried  in  his  arms  above  one  of  the  squarish 
packets  opposite  the  Sutherlands. 

''  Is  it  the  same  lass,"  asked  Grant,  after  we  had 
been  riding  for  more  than  an  hour, ''  is  it  the  same 
lass  that  was  disguised  as  an  Indian  girl  at  Fort 
Gibraltar  ?  " 

His  question  astonished  me.  I  thought  her 
disguise  too  complete  even  for  his  sharp  penetra- 
tion ;  but  I  was  learning  that  nothing  escaped  the 


360  Lords  of  the  North 

warden's  notice.  Indeed,  I  have  found  it  not 
unusual  for  young  people  at  a  certain  stage  of 
their  careers  to  imagine  all  the  rest  of  the  world 
blind. 

"  The  same,"  I  answered,  wondering  much. 

"You  took  her  back  to  Fort  Douglas.  Did 
you  hear  anything  special  in  the  fort  that  night?  " 

'*  Nothing  but  that  McDonell  was  likely  to 
surrender.     How  did  you  know  I  was  there  ?  " 

"Spies,"  he  answered  laconically.  "The  old 
voyageurs  don't  change  masters  often  for  nothing. 
If  you  hadn't  been  stuck  off  in  the  Mandane 
country,  you'd  have  learned  a  bit  of  our  methods. 
Her  father  used  to  favor  the  Nor*- Westers.  What 
has  changed  him  ? " 

"  Seven  Oaks  changed  him,"  I  returned  tersely. 

"  Aye !  Aye !  That  was  terrible,"  and  his 
face  darkened.  "  Terrible !  Terrible  !  It  will 
change  many,"  and  the  rest  of  his  talk  was  full  of 
gloomy  portents  and  forebodings  of  blame  likely 
to  fall  upon  him  for  the  massacre  ;  but  I  think 
history  has  cleared  and  justified  Grant's  part  in 
that  awful  work.     Suddenly  he  turned  to  me. 

"  There's  pleasure  in  this  ride  for  you.  There's 
none  for  me.  Will  ye  follow  the  boats  alone  and 
see  that  no  harm  comes  to  them  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  I,  and  the  warden  wheeled  his 
horse  and  galloped   back   towards  Fort  Douglas. 

For  an  hour  after  he  left,  the  trail  was  among 
the  woods,  and  when  I  finally  reached  a  clearing 
and  could  see  the  boats,  there  was  cause  enough 
for  regret  that  the  warden  had  gone.     A  great 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     361 

outcry  came  from  the  Sutherlands'  boat  and 
Louis  Laplante  was  on  his  feet  gesticulating 
excitedly  and  talking  in  loud  tones  to  the 
rowers. 

*'  Hullo,  there  !  "  I  shouted,  riding  to  the  very 
water's  edge  and  flourishing  my  pistol.  *'  Stop 
your  nonsense,  there  !     What's  wrong?" 

''  There's  a  French  papist  demands  to  have 
speech  wi'  ye,"  called  Mr.  Sutherland. 

*'  Bring  him  ashore,"  I  returned. 

The  boat  headed  about  and  approached  the 
bank.  Then  the  rowers  ceased  pulling  ;  for  the 
water  was  shallow,  and  we  were  within  speaking 
distance. 

**  Now,  Louis,  what  do  you  mean  by  this  non- 
sense ? "  I  began. 

In  answer,  the  Frenchman  leaped  out  of  the 
boat  and  waded  ashore. 

*'  Let  them  go  on,"  he  said,  scrambling  up  the 
cliff  in  a  staggering,  faint  fashion. 

"  If  you  meant  to  stay  at  the  fort,  why  didn't 
you  decide  sooner?  "  I  demanded  roughly. 

''  I  didn't."  This  doggedly  and  with  dov/ncast 
eyes. 

'*  Then  you  go  down  the  lake  with  the  rest  and 
no  skulking !  " 

"Gillespie,"  answered  Louis  in  a  low  tone, 
**  there's  strength  of  an  ox  in  you,  but  not  the 
wit.  Let  them  go  on  !  Simpleton,  I  tell  you  of 
Miriam." 

His  words  recalled  the  real  reason  of  my 
presence  in  the  north  country  ;  for  my  quest  had 


36?  Lords  of  the  North 

indeed  been  eclipsed  by  the  fearful  events  of  the 
past  week.  I  signalled  the  rowers  to  go  with- 
out him,  waved  a  last  farewell  to  Frances  Suther- 
land, and  turned  to  see  Louis  Laplante  throw 
himself  on  the  grass  and  cry  like  a  schoolboy. 
Dismounting  I  knelt  beside  him. 

"  Cheer  up,  old  boy,"  said  I,  with  the  usual 
vacuity  of  thought  and  stupidity  of  expression 
at  such  times.  *'  Cheer  up  !  Seven  Oaks  has 
knocked  you  out.  I  knew  you  shouldn't  make 
this  trip  till  you  were  strong  again.  Why,  man, 
you  have  enough  cuts  to  undo  the  pluck  of  a 
giant-killer !  " 

Louis  was  not  paying  the  slightest  attention 
to  me.  He  was  mumbling  to  himself  and  I  won- 
dered if  he  were  in  a  fever. 

"  The  priest,  the  Irish  priest  in  the  fort,  he  say 
to  me  :  *  Wicked  fellow,  you  be  tortured  forever 
and  ever  in  the  furnace,  if  you  not  undo  what  you 
did  in  the'gorge!'  What  care  Louis  Laplante 
for  the  fire  ?  Pah  !  What  care  Louis  for  wounds 
and  cuts  and  threats?  Pah!  The  fire  not  half 
so  hot  as  the  hell  inside  !  The  cuts  not  half  so 
sharp  as  the  thinks  that  prick  and  sting  and  lash 
from  morn'g  to  night,  night  to  morn'g !  Pah  ! 
Something  inside  say  :  *  Louis  Laplante,  son  of 
a  seigneur,  a  dog  !  A  cur  !  Toad  !  Reptile  !  * 
Then  I  try  stand  up  straight  and  give  the  lie,  but 
it  say  :  *  Pah  !  Louis  Laplante  ! '  The  Irish 
priest,  he  say,  '  You  repent ! '  What  care  Louis 
for  repents?  Pah  !  But  her  eyes,  they  look  and 
look  and  look  like  two  steel-gray  stars  !     Some- 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     363 

time  they  caress  and  he  want  to  pray !  Some- 
time they  stab  and  he  shiver ;  but  they  always 
shine  like  stars  of  heaven  and  the  priest,  he  say, 
*  You  be  shut  out  of  heaven  ! '  If  the  angel  all 
have  stars,  steel  glittering  stars,  for  eyes,  heaven 
worth  for  trying !  The  priest,  he  say,  '  You  go 
to  abode  of  torture ! '  Torture !  Pah  !  More 
torture  than  'nough  here.  Angels  with  stars  in 
their  heads,  more  better.  But  the  stars  stab 
through — through — through " 

"  Bother  the  stars,"  said  I  to  myself.  "  What 
of  Miriam  ?  "  I  asked,  interrupting  his  penitential 
confidences. 

His  references  to  steel-gray  eyes  and  stars  and 
angels  somehow  put  me  in  no  good  mood,  for  a 
reason  with  which  most  men,  but  few  women, 
will  sympathize. 

''  Stupid  ox  !  "  He  spat  out  the  words  with 
unspeakable  impatience  at  my  obtuseness.  "  What 
of  Miriam  !  Why  the  priest  and  the  starry  eyes 
and  the  something  inside,  they  all  say,  *  Go  and 
get  Miriam  !  Where's  the  white  woman  ?  You 
lied  !  You  let  her  go  !  Get  her — get  her — get 
her ! '     What  of  Miriam  ?     Pah  !  " 

After  that  angry  outburst,  the  fountains  of  his 
sorrow  seemed  to  dry  up  and  he  became  more  the 
ola,  nonchalant  Louis  whom  I  knew. 

"  Where  is  Miriam  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  ignored  my  question  and  went  on  reasoning 
with  himself. 

"  No  more  peace — no  more  quiet — no  more  sing 
and  rollick  till  he  get  Miriam  !  " 


364  Lords  of  the  North 

Was  the  fellow  really  delirious  ?  The  boats  were 
disappearing  from  view.     I  could  wait  no  longer. 

"  Louis,"  said  I,  "  if  you  have  anything  to  say, 
say  it  quick !     I  can't  wait  longer." 

"You  know  I  lie  to  you  in  the  gorge  ?  "  and  he 
looked  straight  at  me. 

"  Certainly,"  I  answered,  **  and  I  punished  you 
pretty  well  for  it  twice." 

"You  know  what  that  lie  mean" — and  he 
hesitated — "  mean  to  her — to  Miriam  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Louis,  I  know." 

*'  And  you  forgive  all?     Call  all  even  ?" 

"  As  far  as  I'm  concerned — yes — Louis!  God 
Almighty  alone  can  forgive  the  suffering  you  have 
caused  her." 

Then  Louis  Laplante  leaped  up  and,  catching 
my  hand,  looked  long  and  steadily  into  my  eyes. 

"  I  go  and  find  her,"  he  muttered  in  alow,  tense 
voice.  "  I  follow  their  trail — I  keep  her  from 
suffer — I  bring  them  all  back — back  here  in  the 
bush  on  this  river — I  bring  her  back,  or  I  kill 
Louis  Laplante ! " 

"  Old  comrade — you  were  always  generous,"  I 
began  ;  but  the  words  choked  in  my  throat. 

"  I  know  not  where  they  are,  but  I  find  them  ! 
I  know  not  how  soon — perhaps  a  year — but  I 
bring  them  back  !  Go  on  with  the  boats,"  and 
he  dropped  my  hand. 

"  I  can't  leave  you  here,"  I  protested. 

"'  You  come  back  this  way,"  he  said.  "  May  be 
you  find  me." 

Poor  Louis!     His  tongue  tripped  in  its  oldeva- 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     365 

sive  ways  even  at  the  moment  of  his  penitence, 
which  goes  to  prove— I  suppose— that  we  are  all 
the  sum  total  of  the  thing  called  habit,  that  even 
spontaneous  acts  are  evidences  of  the  summed 
result  of  past  years.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  him 
when  I  came  back,  and  I  did  not.  He  had  van- 
ished  into  the  woods  like  the  wild  creature  that 
he  was;  but  I  was  placing  a  strange,  reasonless 
reliance  on  his  promise  to  find  Miriam. 

When  I  caught  up  with  the  boats,  the  river  was 
widening  so  that  attack  would  be  impossible,  and 
I  did  not  ride  far.  Heading  my  horse  about,  I 
spurred  back  to  Fort  Douglas.  Passing  Seven 
Oaks,  I  saw  some  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  men,  who 
had  remained  burying  the  dead— not  removing 
them.  That  was  impossible  after  the  wolves  and 
three  days  of  a  blistering  sun. 

I  told  Hamilton  of  neither  Le  Grand  Diable's 
death,  nor  Louis  Laplante's  promise.  He  had  suf- 
fered disappointments  enough  and  could  ill  stand 
any  sort  of  excitement.  I  found  him  walking 
about  in  the  up-stairs  hall,  but  his  own  grief 
had  deadened  him  to  the  fortunes  of  the  warring 
companies. 

*'  Confound  you,  boy  !     Tell    me  the  truth  ! 
said  Father  Holland  to  me  afterwards  in  the  court- 
yard. 

Le  Grand  Diable's  death  and  Louis  Laplante  s 
promise  seemed  to  make  a  great  impression  on  the 

priest. 

''  I  tell  you  the  Lord  delivered  that  evil  one  m- 
to  the  hands  of  the  punisher  ;  and  of  the  innocent, 


366  Lords  of  the  North 

the  Lord,  Himself,  is  the  defender.     Await  His 
purpose  !     Await  His  time  !  " 

*'  Mighty  long  time,"  said  I,  with  the  bitter  im- 
patience of  youth. 

"  Quiet,  youngster  !  I  tell  you  she  shall  be  de- 
livered ! " 

.  •  •  •  •  • 

At  last  the  Nor-Westers*  Fort  William  brigade 
with  its  sixty  men  and  numerous  well-loaded 
canoes — whose  cargoes  had  been  the  bone  of  con- 
tention between  Hudson's  Bay  and  Nor'-Westers 
at  Seven  Oaks — arrived  at  Fort  Douglas.  The 
newcomers  were  surprised  to  find  us  in  possession 
of  the  enemy's  fort.  The  last  news  they  had  heard 
was  of  wanton  and  successful  aggression  on  the 
part  of  Lord  Selkirk's  Company  ;  and  I  think  the 
extra  crews  sent  north  were  quite  as  much  for  pur- 
poses of  defence  as  swift  travel.  But  the  gravity 
of  affairs  startled  the  men  from  Fort  William  ; 
for  they,  themselves,  had  astounding  news.  Lord 
Selkirk  was  on  his  way  north  with  munitions  of 
war  and  an  army  of  mercenaries  formerly  of  the 
De  Meurons'  regiment,  numbering  two  hundred, 
some  said  three  or  four  hundred  men  ;  but  this  was 
an  exaggeration.  For  what  was  he  coming  to 
Red  River  in  this  warlike  fashion?  His  pur- 
pose would  probably  show  itself.  Also,  if  his  in- 
tent were  hostile,  would  not  Seven  Oaks  massacre 
afford  him  the  very  pretence  he  wanted  for  chas- 
tising Nor'-Westers  out  of  the  country?  The 
canoe-men  had  met  the  ejected  settlers  bound 
up  the  lake  ;  and  with  them,  whom  did  they  see 


Fort  Douglas  Changes  Masters     367 

but  the  bellicose  Captain  Miles  McDonell,  given 
free  passage  but  a  year  before  to  Montreal  and 
now  on  ''  the  prosperous  return,"  which  he,  him- 
self, had  prophesied  ? 

The  settlers'  news  of  Seven  Oaks  sent  the 
brave  captain  hurrying  southward  to  inform  Lord 
Selkirk  of  the  massacre. 

We  had  had  a  victory  ;  but  how  long  would  it 
last  ?  Truly  the  sky  was  darkening  and  few  of  us 
felt  hopeful  about  the  bursting  of  the  storm. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

HIS   LORDSHIP   TO   THE   RESCUE 

Even  at  the  hour  of  our  triumph,  we  Nor*- 
Westers  knew  that  we  had  yet  to  reckon  with 
Lord  Selkirk ;  and  a  speedy  reckoning  the  indom- 
itable nobleman  brought  about.  The  massacre  at 
Seven  Oaks  afforded  our  rivals  the  very  pretext 
they  desired.  Clothed  with  the  authority  of  an 
officer  of  the  law,  Lord  Selkirk  hurried  north- 
ward ;  and  a  personage  of  his  importance  could 
not  venture  into  the  wilderness  without  a  strong 
body-guard.  At  least,  that  was  the  excuse  given 
for  the  retinue  of  two  or  three  hundred  mer- 
cenaries decked  out  in  all  the  regimentals  of  war, 
whom  Lord  Selkirk  brought  with  him  to  the 
north.  A  more  rascally,  daring  crew  of  raga- 
muffins could  not  have  been  found  to  defend 
Selkirk's  side  of  the  gentlemen  adventurers'  feud. 
The  men  were  the  offscourings  of  European  arm- 
ies engaged  in  the  Napoleonic  wars,  and  came 
directly  from  the  old  De  Meurons'  regiment. 
The  information  which  the  Fort  William  brigade 
brought  of  Selkirk's  approach,  also  explained  why 
that  same  brigade  hastened  back  to  the  defence 
of    Nor'-West  quarters  on    Lake  Superior;    and 

their  help  was  needed.     News  of  events  at  Fort 
368 


His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue       369 

William  came  to  us  in  the  Red  River  department 
tardily.     First,  there  was  a  vague  rumor  among 
the  Indian  voyageurs,  who  were  ever  gliding  back 
and  forward  on  the  labyrinthine  waters  of   that 
north  land  like   the   birds  of  passage  overhead. 
Then  came  definite  reports  from  freemen  who  had 
been  expelled  from  Fort  William  ;  and  we  could 
no  longer  doubt  that  Nor'-West  headquarters,  with 
all   the   wealth    of   furs    and    provisions   therein 
had    fallen    into    the    hands     of    the  Hudson's 
Bay  forces.     Afterwards  came  warning  from  our 
Bourgeois,  driven  out  of  Fort  William,  for  Fort 
Douglas  to  be  prepared.     Lord  Selkirk  would  only 
rest  long  enough  at  Fort  William  to  take  posses- 
sion of  everything  worth  possessing,  in  the  name 
of  the  law — for  was  he  not  a  justice  of  the  peace? 
— and  in  the  name  of  the  law  would  he  move  with 
like  intent  against  Fort  Douglas.     To  the  earl's 
credit,  be  it  said,  that  his  victories  were  bloodless  ; 
but  they  were  bloodless  because  the  Nor' -Westers 
had  no  mind  to  unleash  those  redskin  bloodhounds 
a  second  time,  preferring  to  suffer  loss  rather  than 
resort   to  violence.      Nevertheless,  we  called  in 
every  available   hand   of  the  Nor'-West  staff  to 
man  Fort  Douglas  against  attack.     But  summer 
dragged  into  autumn  and    autumn    into  winter, 
and  no  Lord  Selkirk.     Then  we  began  to  think 
ourselves  secure ;  for  the  streams  were  frozen  to 
a  depth  of  four  feet  like  adamant,  and  unless  Sel- 
kirk were  a  madman,  he   would  not  attempt  to 
bring  his  soldiers  north  by  dog-train  during  the 
bitter  cold  of  midwinter.     But  'tis  ever  the  policy 
24 


370  Lords  of  the  North 

of  the  astute  madman  to  discount  the  enemy's 
calculations ;  and  Selkirk  utterly  discounted  ours 
by  sending  his  hardy,  dare-devil  De  Meurons 
across  country  under  the  leadership  of  that  prince 
of  braggarts,  Captain  D'Orsonnens.  Indeed,  we 
had  only  heard  the  rumor  of  their  coming,  when 
we  awakened  one  morning  after  an  obscure,  stormy 
night  to  find  them  encamped  at  St.  James,  west- 
ward on  the  Assiniboine  River.  Day  after  day 
the  menacing  force  remained  quiet  and  inoffensive, 
and  we  began  to  look  upon  these  notorious  ruf- 
fians as  harmless.  For  our  part,  vigilance  was  not 
lacking.  Sentinels  were  posted  in  the  towers  day 
and  night.  Nor'-West  spies  shadowed  every 
movement  of  the  enemy ;  and  it  was  seriously 
considered  whether  we  should  not  open  commu- 
nication with  D'Orsonnens  to  ascertain  what  he 
wanted ;  but,  truth  to  say,  we  knew  very  well 
what  he  wanted,  and  had  had  such  a  surfeit  of 
blood,  we  were  not  anxious  to  re-open  hos- 
tilities. 

As  for  Hamilton,  I  can  hardly  call  his  life  at 
Fort  Douglas  anything  more  than  a  mere  exist- 
ence. A  blow  stuns,  but  one  may  recover.  Re- 
peated failure  gradually  benumbs  hope  and  will- 
power and  effort,  like  some  ghoulish  vampire 
sucking  away  a  man's  life-blood  till  he  faint  and 
die  from  very  inanition.  The  blow,  poor  Eric 
had  suffered,  when  he  lost  Miriam ;  the  repeated 
failure,  when  we  could  not  restore  her;  and  I  saw 
this  strong,  athletic  man  slowly  succumb  as  to 
some  insidious,  paralyzing  disease.     The  thought 


His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue        371 

of  effort  seemed  to  burden  him.  He  would  silently 
mope  by  the  hour  in  some  dark  corner  of  Fort 
Douglas,  or  wander  aimlessly  about  the  courtyard, 
muttering  and  talking  to  himself.  He  was  weary 
and  fatigued  without  a  stroke  of  work ;  and  what 
little  sleep  he  snatched  from  wakeful  vigils  seemed 
to  give  him  no  rest.  His  food,  he  thrust  from 
him  with  the  petulance  of  a  child  ;  and  at  every 
suggestion  I  could  make,  he  sneered  with  a  quiet, 
gentle  insistence  that  was  utterly  discomfiting. 
To  be  sure,  I  had  Father  Holland's  boisterous  good 
cheer  as  a  counter-irritant  ;  for  the  priest  had  re- 
mained at  Fort  Douglas,  and  was  ministering  to  the 
tribes  of  the  Red  and  Assiniboine.  But  it  was  on 
her,  who  had  been  my  guiding  star  and  hope  and 
inspiration  from  the  first,  that  I  mainly  depended. 
As  hard,  merciless  winter  closed  in,  I  could  not 
think  of  those  shelterless  colonists  driven  to  the 
lake,  without  shuddering  at  the  distress  I  knew 
they  must  suffer;  and  I  despatched  a  runner, 
urging  them  to  return  to  Red  River,  and  giving 
personal  guarantee  for  their  safety.  Among 
those,  who  came  back,  were  the  Sutherlands ;  and 
if  my  quest  had  entailed  far  greater  hardship  than 
it  did,  that  quiet  interval  with  leisure  to  spend 
much  time  at  the  Selkirk  settlement  would  have 
repaid  all  suffering.  After  sundown,  I  was  free 
from  fort  duties.  Tying  on  snow-shoes  after  the 
manner  of  the  natives,  I  would  speed  over  the 
whitened  drifts  of  billowy  snow.  The  surface, 
melted  by  the  sun-glare  of  mid-day  and  encrusted 
with  brittle,  glistening  ice,  never  gave  under  my 


372  Lords  of  the  North 

weight ;  and,  oddly  enough,  my  way  always  led 
to  the  Sutherland  homestead.  After  the  coming 
of  the  De  Meurons,  Frances  used  to  expostulate 
against  what  she  called  my  foolhardiness  in  mak- 
ing these  evening  visits;  but  their  presence  made 
no  difference  to  me. 

"  I  don't  believe  those  drones  intend  doing  any- 
thing very  dreadful,  after  all,  sir,"  I  remarked  one 
night  to  Frances  Sutherland's  father,  referring  to 
the  soldiers. 

Following  his  daughter's  directions  I  had  been 
coming  very  early,  also  very  often,  with  the  ob- 
ject of  accustoming  the  dour  Scotchman  to  my 
staying  late  ;  and  he  had  softened  enough  towards 
me  to  take  part  in  occasional  argument. 

"  Don't  believe  they  intend  doing  a  thing,  sir," 
I  reiterated. 

Pushing  his  spectacles  up  on  his  forehead,  he 
closed  the  book  of  sermons,  which  he  had  been 
reading,  and  puckered  his  brows  as  if  he  were 
compromising  a  hard  point  with  conscience,  which, 
indeed,  I  afterwards  knew,  was  exactly  what  he 
had  been  doing. 

"Aye,"  said  he,  "aye,  aye,  young  man.  But 
I'm  thinking  ye'U  no  do  y'r  company  ony  harm 
by  speerin'  after  the  designs  o'  fightin'  men  who 
make  ladders." 

"  Oh !  "  I  cried,  all  alert  for  information. 
"  Have  they  been  making  ladders  ?  " 

He  pulled  the  spectacles  down  on  his  nose  and 
deliberately  reopened  the  book  of  sermons. 

"  Of  that,  I  canna  say,  "  he  replied. 


His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue       373 

Only  once  again  did  he  emerge  from  his  read- 
ings. I  had  risen  to  go.  Frances  usually  accom- 
panied me  to  the  outer  door,  where  I  tied  my  snow- 
shoes  and  took  a  farewell  unobserved  by  the 
father ;  but  when  I  opened  the  door,  such  a  blast 
of  wind  and  snow  drove  in,  I  instantly  clapped  it 
shut  again  and  began  tying  the  racquets  on  inside. 

''  O  Rufus  !  "  exclaimed  Frances,  *'  you  can't  go 
back  to  Fort  Douglas  in  that  storm  ! " 

Then  we  both  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  a 
hurricane  of  wind  was  rocking  the  little  house  to 
its  foundations. 

"  Did  that  spring  up  all  of  a  sudden  ?  "  I  cried. 
"  I  never  saw  a  blizzard  do  that  before." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Rufus,  we  were  not  noticing." 

"  No,  we  were  otherwise  interested,"  said  I,  in- 
nocently enough  ;  but  she  laughed. 

"You  can't  go,"  she  declared. 

"  The  wind  will  be  on  my  back,"  I  assured  her. 
**  I'll  be  all  right,"  and  I  went  on  lacing  the  snow- 
shoe  thongs  about  my  ankle. 

The  book  of  sermons  shut  with  a  snap  and  the 
father  turned  towards  us. 

"  Let  no  one  say  any  man  left  the  Sutherland 
hearth  on  such  a  night !  Put  by  those  senseless 
things,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  snow-shoes. 

"  But  those  ladders,"  I  interposed.  '*  Let  no 
one  say  when  the  enemy  came  Rufus  Gillespie 
was  absent  from  his  citadel  ! " 

The  wind  roared  round  the  house  corners  like  a 
storm  at  sea  ;  and  the  father  looked  down  at  me 
with  a  strange,  quizzical  expression. 


374  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Ye're  a  headstrong  young  man,  Rufus  Gilles- 
pie," said  the  hard-set  mouth.  ''  Ye  maun  knock  a 
hole  in  the  head,  or  the  wall !     Will  ye  go  ?  " 

•'  Knock  the  hole  in  the  wall,"  I  laughed  back. 
*'  Of  course  I  go." 

"  Then,  tak'  the  dogs,"  said  he,  with  a  sparkle 
of  kindliness  in  the  cold  eyes.  So  it  came  that  I 
set  out  in  the  Sutherlands'  dog-sled  with  a  supply 
of  robes  to  defy  biting  frost. 

And  I  needed  them  every  one.  Old  settlers,  de- 
scribing winter  storms,  have  been  accused  of  an 
imagination  as  expansive  as  the  prairie  ;  but  I 
affirm  no  man  could  exaggerate  the  fury  of  a  bliz- 
zard on  the  unbroken  prairie.  To  one  thing  only 
may  it  be  likened — a  hurricane  at  sea.  People  in 
lands  boxed  off  at  short  compass  by  mountain 
ridges  forget  with  what  violence  a  wind  sweeping 
half  a  continent  can  disport  itself.  In  the  boister- 
ous roar  of  the  gale,  my  shouts  to  the  dogs  were  a 
feeble  whisper  caught  from  my  lips  and  lost  in  the 
shrieking  wind.  The  fine  snowy  particles  were  a 
powdered  ice  that  drove  through  seams  of  clothing 
and  cut  one's  skin  like  a  whip  lash.  Without  the 
fringe  of  woods  along  the  river  bank  to  guide  me, 
it  would  have  been  madness  to  set  out  by  day, 
and  worse  than  madness  by  night ;  but  I  kept  the 
dogs  close  to  the  woods.  The  trees  broke  the 
wind  and  prevented  me  losing  all  sense  of  direc- 
tion in  the  tornado  whirl  of  open  prairie.  Not 
enough  snow  had  fallen  on  the  hard-crusted  drifts 
to  impede  the  dogs.  They  scarcely  sank  and  with 
the  wind  on  their  backs  dashed  ahead  till  the  woods 


His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue       375 

were  passed  and  we  were  on  the  bare  plains.  No 
light  could  be  seen  through  the  storm,  but  I  knew 
I  was  within  a  short  distance  of  the  fort  gate  and 
wheeled  the  dogs  toward  the  river  flats  of  the  left. 
The  creatures  seemed  to  scent  human  presence. 
They  leaped  forward  and  brought  the  sleigh 
against  the  wall  with  a  knock  that  rolled  me  out. 

''  Good  fellows  ;  "  I  cried,  springing  up,  uncer- 
tain where  I  was. 

The  huskies  crouched  around  my  feet  almost 
tripping  me  and  I  felt  through  the  snowy  dark- 
ness against  the  stockades,  stake  by  stake. 

Ah  !  There  was  a  post !  Here  were  close-fitted 
boards — here,  iron-lining— this  must  be  the  gate  ; 
but  where  was  the  lantern  that  hung  behind?  A 
gust  of  wind  might  have  extinguished  the  light ; 
so  I  drubbed  loudly  on  the  gate  and  shouted  to 
the  sentry,  who  should  have  been  inside. 

The  wind  lulled  for  a  moment  and  up  burst 
wild  shouting  from  the  courtyard  intermingled 
with  the  jeers  of  Frenchmen  and  cries  of  terror 
from  our  people.  Then  I  knew  judgment  had 
come  for  the  deeds  at  Seven  Oaks.  The  gale 
broke  again  with  a  hissing  of  serpents,  or  red 
irons,  and  the  howling  wind  rose  in  shrill,  angry 
bursts.  Hugging  the  wall,  while  the  dogs  whined 
behind,  I  ran  towards  the  rear.  Men  jostled 
through  the  snowy  dark,  and  I  was  among  the 
De  Meurons.  They  were  too  busy  scaling  the 
stockade  on  the  ladders  of  which  I  had  heard  to 
notice  an  intruder.  Taking  advantage  of  the 
storm,  I   mounted   a   ladder,   vaulted   over  the 


376  Lords  of  the  North 

pickets  and  alighted  in  the  courtyard.  Here  all 
was  noise,  flight,  pursuit  and  confusion.  I  made 
for  the  main  hall,  where  valuable  papers  were 
kept,  and  at  the  door,  cannoned  against  one  of 
our  men,  who  shrieked  with  fright  and  begged  for 
mercy. 

*'  Coward  !  **  said  I,  giving  him  a  cuff.     "  What 
has  happened  ?  " 

A  flare  fell  on  us  both,  and  he  recognized  me. 

''The  De  Meurons!"  he  gasped.  *' The  De 
Meurons ! " 

I  left  him  bawling  out  his  fear  and  rushed  in- 
side. 

'' What  has  happened?"  I  asked,  tripping  up  a 
clerk  who  was  flying  through  the  hallway. 

*'  The  De  Meurons  !  "  he  gasped.  *'  The  De 
Meurons !" 

''  Stop  !  "  I  commanded,  grasping  the  lap  of  his 
coat.     "  What — has — happened  ?  " 

"  The  De  Meurons  !  "    This  was  fairly  screamed. 

I  shook  him  till  he  sputtered  something  more. 

"  They've  captured  the  fort — our  people  didn't 
want  to  shed  blood " 

"  And  threw  down  their  guns,"  I  interjected, 
disgusted  beyond  word. 

"  Threw  down  their  guns,"  he  repeated,  as 
though  that  were  a  praiseworthy  action.  "  The 
s-s-sentinels — saw  the  court — full — full — full  of 
s-soldiers!  " 

''Full  of  soldiers!"  I  thundered.  "There  are 
not  a  hundred  in  the  gang." 

Thereupon  I  gave  the  caitiff  a  toss  that  sent 


His  Lordship  to  the  Rescue        377 

him  reeling  against  the  wall,  and  dashed  up-stairs 
for  the  papers.  All  was  darkness,  and  I  nigh 
broke  my  neck  over  a  coffin-shaped  rough  box 
made  for  one  of  the  trappers,  who  had  died  in 
the  fort.  Why  was  the  thing  lying  there,  any- 
way ?  The  man  should  have  been  put  into  it 
and  buried  at  once  without  any  drinking  bout 
and  dead  wake,  I  reflected  with  some  sharpness, 
as  I  rubbed  my  bruised  shins  and  shoved  the  box 
aside.  Shouts  rang  up  from  the  courtyard. 
Heavy  feet  trampled  in  the  hall  below.  Hamil- 
ton, as  a  Hudson's  Bay  man,  and  Father  Holland, 
I  knew,  were  perfectly  safe.  But  I  was  far  from 
safe.  Why  were  they  not  there  to  help  me,  I 
wondered,  with  the  sort  of  rage  we  all  vent  on 
our  friends  when  we  are  cornered  and  they  at 
ease.  I  fumbled  across  the  apartment,  found  the 
right  desk,  pried  the  drawer  open  with  my  knife, 
and  was  in  the  very  act  of  seizing  the  documents 
when  I  saw  my  own  shadow  on  the  floor.  Lan- 
tern light  burst  with  a  glare  through  the  gloom 
of  the  doorway. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FATHER   HOLLAND   AND   I   IN  THE  TOILS 

Behind  the  lantern  was  a  face  with  terrified 
eyes  and  gaping  mouth.  It  was  the  priest,  his 
genial  countenance  a  very  picture  of  fear. 

''What's  wrong,  Father?"  I  asked.  *'*  You 
needn't  be  alarmed  ;  you're  all  right." 

"  But  I  am  alarmed,  for  you're  all  wrong ! 
Lord,  boy,  why  didn't  ye  stay  with  that  peppery 
Scotchman?  What  did  Frances  mane  by  lettin' 
you  out  to-night  ?  "  and  he  shaded  the  light  of 
the  lantern  with  his  hand. 

''  I  wanted  these  things,"  I  explained. 

"  Ye  want  a  broad  thumpin',  I'm  thinkin*,  ye 
rattle-pate,  to  risk  y'r  precious  noodle  here  to- 
night," he  whispered,  coming  forward  and  fussing 
about  me  with  all  the  maternal  anxiety  of  a  hen 
over  her  only  chicken. 

"  Listen,"  said  I.     ''  The  whole  mob's  coming 

•    »> 
m. 

"Go!"  he  urged,  pushing  me  from  the  desk 
over  which  I  still  fumbled. 

"  Run  for  those  dogs  of  mercenaries  !  "  I  pro- 
tested. 

"  Ye  swash-buckler !  Ye  stiff-necked  braggart ! " 
37S 


Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils     379 

bawled  the  priest.  "  Out  wid  y'r  nonsense,  and 
what  good  are  y'  thinkin'  ye'U  do—?  Stir  your 
stumps,  y'  stoopid  spalpeen  !  " 

*'  Listen,"  I  urged,  undisturbed  by  the  tongue- 
thrashing  that  stormed  about  my  ears.  In  the 
babel  of  voices  I  thought  I  had  heard  some  one 
call  my  name. 

**Run,  Rufus!  Run  for  y'r  life,  boy!"  urged 
Father  Holland,  apparently  thinking  the  rufifians 
had  come  solely  for  me. 

"  Run  yourself,  Father ;  run  yourself,  and  see 
how  you  like  it,"  and  I  tucked  the  documents 
inside  my  coat. 

"  Divil  a  bit  I'll  run,"  returned  the  priest. 

"  Hark !  " 

The  De  Meurons'  leaders  were  shouting  orders 
to  their  men.  Above  the  screams  of  people  flee- 
ing in  terror  through  passage-ways,  came  a  shrill 

bugle-call. 

"Go— go— go— Rufus!"  begged  Father  Hol- 
land in  a  paroxysm  of  fear.  "  Go  !  "  he  pleaded, 
pushing  me  towards  the  door. 

"  I  won't ! "  and  I  jerked  away  from  him. 
"  There,  now."     I  caught  up  a  club  and  loaded 

pistol. 

The  Nor'-Westers  had  no  time  to  defend  them- 
selves. Almost  before  my  stubborn  defiance  was 
uttered,  the  building  was  filled  with  a  mob  of 
intoxicated  De  Meurons.  Rushing  everywhere 
with  fixed  bayonets  and  cursing  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  they  threatened  death  to  all  Nor'- 
Westers.    There  was  a   loud   scuffling  of  men 


380  Lords  of  the  North 

forcing   their   way  through   the    defended    hall 
downstairs. 

"Go,  Rufus,  go!  Think  of  Frances!  Save 
yourself,"  urged  the  priest. 

It  was  too  late.  I  could  not  escape  by  the 
hall.  Noisy  feet  were  already  trampling  up  the 
stairs  and  the  clank  of  armed  men  filled  every 
passage. 

"  Jee-les-pee !  Jee-les-pee !  Seven  Oaks!" 
bawled  a  French  voice  from  the  half-way  land- 
ing, and  a  multitude  of  men  with  torches  dashed 
up  the  stairs.  I  took  a  stand  to  defend  myself ; 
for  I  thought  I  might  be  charged  with  implica- 
tion in  the  massacre. 

"Jee-les-pee,"  roared  the  voices.  "Where  is 
Gillespie?"  thundered  a  leader. 

"  That's  you,  Rufus,  lad  !  Down  with  you  !  " 
muttered  the  priest.  Before  I  knew  his  purpose, 
he  had  tripped  my  feet  from  under  me  and 
knocked  me  flat  on  the  floor.  Overturning  the 
empty  coffin-box,  he  clapped  it  above  my  whole 
length,  imprisoning  me  with  the  snap  and  celerity 
of  a  mouse-trap.  Then  I  heard  the  thud  of  two 
hundred  avoirdupois  seating  itself  on  top  of  the 
case.  The  man  above  my  person  had  whisked 
out  a  book  of  prayers,  and  with  lantern  on  the 
desk  was  conning  over  devotions,  which,  I  am 
sure,  must  have  been  read  with  the  manual  up- 
side down ;  for  bits  of  the  pater  noster.  service  of 
the  mass,  and  vesper  psalms  were  uttered  in  a 
disconnected  jumble,  though  I  could  not  but 
apply  the  words  to  my  own  case. 


Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils     381 

"  Libera  nos  a  mdlo — ora  pro  nobis,  peccato- 
ribiis — ab  hoste  nialigno  defende  nie — ab  ho7nine 
iniqiio  et  doloso  erue  me — peccator  vide  bit  et  iras- 

cetur — desideriiun    peccatomm  peribit "came 

from  the  priest  with  torrent  speed. 

"  Jee-les-pee  !  Jee-les-pee  !  "  roared  a  dozen 
throats  above  the  half-way  landing.  Then  came 
the  stamp  of  many  feet  to  the  door. 

"  Wait,  men  !  "  Hamilton's  voice  commanded. 
''  I'll  see  if  he's  here  !  " 

"  Simulacra  gentium  argentuni  et  auruni,  opera 
manuum  hominiinty  "  like  hailstones  rattled  the 
Latin  words  down  on  my  prison. 

"  One  moment,  men,"  came  Eric's  voice ; 
but  he  could  not  hold  them  back.  In  burst  the 
door  with  a  rush,  and  immediately  the  room  was 
crowded  with  vociferating  French  soldiers. 

"  Majiiis  habent,  et  7ion  palpabimt ;  pedes " 

''Is  Gillespie  here?"  interrupted  Hamilton, 
without  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  priest  in 
his  tones. 

"  Pedes  habeftt  et  non  ambulabunt ;  non  claina- 
bu?it  in  gutture  suo,''  muttered  the  priest,  finish- 
ing his  verse ;  then  to  the  men  with  a  stiffness 
which  I  did  not  think  Father  Holland  could  ever 
assume — 

"  How  often  must  I  be  disturbed  by  men  seek- 
ing that  young  scoundrel?  Look  at  this  place, 
fairly  topsy-turvy  with  their  hunt !  Faith  !  The 
room  is  before  you.  Look  and  see  !  "  and  with  a 
great  indifference  he  went  on  with  his  devotions, 

"  Similes  illis  Jiant  qui  facimit  ea " 


382  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Some  one  here  before  us  ? "  interrupted  an 
Englishman  with  some  suspicion. 

"  Two  parties  here  before  ye,"  answered  the 
priest,  icily,  as  if  these  repeated  questions 
rumpled  ecclesiastical  dignity,  and  he  gabbled  on 
with  the  psalm,  similes  illis  fiant  qui  faciufit  eUy 
et  omnes " 

**  If  we  lifted  that  box,"  interrupted  the  per- 
sistent Englishman,  ''  what  might  there  be?" 

"  If  ye  lift  that  box,"  answered  Father  Hol- 
land with  massive  solemnity — and  I  confess  every 
hair  on  my  body  bristled  as  he  rose — '*  If  ye  lift 
that  box  there  might  be  a  powr — dead — body," 
which  was  very  true ;  for  I  still  held  the  cocked 
pistol  in  hand  and  would  have  shot  the  first  man 
daring  to  molest  me. 

But  the  priest's  indifference  was  not  so  great 
as  it  appeared.  I  could  tell  from  a  tremor  in  his 
voice  that  he  was  greatly  disturbed ;  and  he  cer- 
tainly lost  his  place  altogether  in  the  vesper 
psalm. 

^^  Requiescat  in  pace y'  were  his  next  words,  ut- 
tered in  funereal  gravity.  Singularly  enough, 
they  seemed  to  fit  the  situation. 

Father  Holland's  prompt  offer  to  have  the 
rough  box  examined  satisfied  the  searchers,  and 
there  were  no  further  demands. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Englishman,  taken  aback,  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir  !     No  offence  meant." 

**  No  offence,"  replied  the  priest,  reseating  him- 
self.    "  Benedicite " 

"  Sittin'  on  the  coffin ! "  blurted  out  the  voice 


Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils     383 

of  an  English  youth  as  the  weight  of  the  priest 
again  came  down  heavily  on  my  prison  ;  and 
again  I  breathed  easily. 

"Come  on,  men!"  shouted  Hamilton,  appre- 
hensive of  more  curiosity.  "  We're  wasting 
time !  He  may  be  escaping  by  the  basement 
window ! " 

''Jam  hients  transiit,  hnher  abiit  et  recessit ; 
surge,  arnica  mea,  et  vent!''  droned  the  priest, 
and  the  whole  company  clattered  downstairs. 

"  Quick  ! — Out  with  you  !  "  commanded  Father 
Holland.  *'  Speed  to  y'r  heels,  and  blessing  on 
*:he  last  o'  ye  !  " 

I  dashed  down  the  stairs  and  was  bolting 
through  the  doorway  when  some  one  shouted, 
"There  he  is!" 

"  Run,  Gillespie  !  "  cried  some  one  else — one  of 
our  men,  I  suppose— and  I  had  plunged  into  the 
storm  and  raced  for  the  ladders  at  the  rear  stock- 
ades with  a  pack  of  pursuers  at  my  heels.  The 
snow-drifts  were  in  my  favor,  for  with  my  moc- 
casins, I  leaped  lightly  forward,  while  the  booted 
soldiers  floundered  deep.  I  eluded  my  pursuers 
and  was  half-way  up  a  ladder  when  a  soldier's  head 
suddenly  appeared  above  the  wall  on  the  other 
side.  Then  a  bayonet  prodded  me  in  the  chest 
and  I  fell  heavily  backwards  to  the  ground. 


I  was  captured. 

That  is  all  there  is  to   say.     No  man  dilates 
with  pleasure  over  that  part  of  his  life  when  he 


384  Lords  of  the  North 

was  vanquished.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  have 
weapons  of  defence  wrested  from  one's  hands,  to 
feel  soldiers  standing  upon  one's  wrists  and  rifling 
pockets. 

It  is  hard  to  feel  every  inch  the  man  on  the 
horizontal. 

In  truth,  when  the  soldiers  picked  me  up  with- 
out ceremony,  or  gentleness,  and  bundling  me  up 
the  stairs  of  the  main  hall,  flung  me  into  a  miser- 
able pen,  with  windows  iron-barred  to  mid-sash, 
I  was  but  a  sorry  hero.  My  tormentors  did  not 
shackle  me ;  I  was  spared  that  humiliation. 

"There!"  exclaimed  a  Hudson's  Bay  man, 
throwing  lantern-light  across  the  dismal  low  roof 
as  I  fell  sprawling  into  the  room.  "  That'll  cool 
the  young  hot-head,"  and  all  the  French  soldiers 
laughed  at  my  discomfiture. 

They  chained  and  locked  the  door  on  the  out- 
side. I  heard  the  soldiers'  steps  reverberating 
through  the  empty  passages,  and  was  alone  in  a 
sort  of  prison-room,  used  during  the  regime  of 
the  petty  tyrant  McDonell.  It  was  cold  enough 
to  cool  any  hot-head,  and  mine  was  very  hot  in- 
deed. I  knew  the  apartment  well.  Nor'-Westers 
had  used  it  as  a  fur  storeroom.  The  wind  came 
through  the  crevices  of  the  board  walls  and  piled 
miniature  drifts  on  the  floor-cracks,  all  the  while 
rattling  loose  timbers  like  a  saw-mill.  The  roof 
was  but  a  few  feet  high,  and  I  crept  to  the  win- 
dow, finding  all  the  small  panes  coated  with  two 
inches  of  hoar-frost.  Whether  the  iron  bars  out- 
side ran  across,  or  up  and  down,  I  could  not  re- 


Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils     385 

member;  but  the  fact  would  make  a  difference  to 
a  man  trying  to  escape.  Much  as  I  disliked  to 
break  the  glass  letting  in  more  cold,  there  was 
only  one  way  of  finding  out  about  those  bars.  I 
raised  my  foot  for  an  outward  kick,  but  remem- 
bering I  wore  only  the  moccasins  with  which  I 
had  been  snowshoeing,  I  struck  my  fist  through 
instead,  and  shattered  the  whole  upper  half  of 
the  window.  I  broke  away  cross-pieces  that 
might  obstruct  outward  passage,  and  leaning 
down  put  my  hand  on  the  sharp  points  of  up- 
right spikes.  So  intense  was  the  frost,  the  skin 
of  my  finger  tips  stuck  to  the  iron,  and  I  drew  my 
hand  in,  with  the  sting  of  a  fresh  burn. 

It  was  unfortunate  about  those  bars.  I  could 
not  possibly  get  past  them  down  to  the  ground 
without  making  a  ladder  from  my  great-coat. 
I  groped  round  the  room  hoping  that  some 
of  the  canvas  in  which  we  tied  the  peltries, 
might  be  lying  about.  There  was  nothing  of 
the  sort,  or  I  missed  it  in  the  dark.  Quickly 
tearing  my  coat  into  strips,  I  knotted  triple  plies 
together  and  fastened  the  upper  end  to  the  cross- 
piece  of  the  lower  window.  Feet  first,  I  poked 
myself  out,  caught  the  strands  with  both  hands, 
and  like  a  flash  struck  ground  below  with  badly 
skinned  palms.  That  reminded  me  I  had  left  my 
mits  in  the  prison  room. 

The  storm  had  driven  the  soldiers  inside.  I  did 
not  encounter  a  soul  in  the  courtyard,  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  letting  myself  out  by  the  main  gate. 

I  whistled  for  the  dogs.  They  came  hud. 
«5 


386  Lords  of  the  North 

dling  from  the  ladders  where  I  had  left  them, 
the  sleigh  still  trailing  at  their  heels.  One  poor 
animal  was  so  benumbed  I  cut  him  from  the 
traces  and  left  him  to  die.  Gathering  up  the 
robes,  I  shook  them  free  of  snow,  replaced  them 
in  the  sleigh  and  led  the  string  of  dogs  down  to 
the  river.  It  would  be  bitterly  cold  facing  that 
sweep  of  unbroken  wind  in  mid-river;  but  the 
trail  over  ice  would  permit  greater  speed,  and 
with  the  high  banks  on  each  side  the  dogs  could 
not  go  astray. 

To  an  overruling  Providence,  and  to  the  in- 
stincts of  the  dogs,  I  owe  my  life.  The  creatures 
had  not  gone  ten  sleigh-lengths  when  I  felt  the 
loss  of  my  coat,  and  giving  one  final  shout  to 
them,  I  lay  back  on  the  sleigh  and  covered 
myself,  head  and  all,  under  the  robes,  trusting 
the  huskies  to  find  their  way  home. 

I  do  not  like  to  recall  that  return  to  the  Suther- 
lands.  The  man,  who  is  frozen  to  death,  knows 
nothing  of  the  cruelties  of  northern  cold.  The 
icy  hand,  that  takes  his  life,  does  not  torture,  but 
deadens  the  victim  into  an  everlasting,  easy,  pain- 
less sleep.  This  I  know,  for  I  felt  the  deadly 
frost-slumber,  and  fought  against  it.  Aching 
hands  and  feet  stopped  paining  and  became 
utterly  feelingless ;  and  the  deadening  thing  be- 
gan creeping  inch  by  inch  up  the  stiffening  limbs 
the  life  centres,  till  a  great  drowsiness  began  to 
overpower  body  and  mind.  Realizing  what  this 
meant,  I  sprang  from  the  sleigh  and  stopped 
the  dogs. 


Father  Holland  and  I  in  the  Toils     387 

I  tried  to  grip  the  empty  traces  of  the  dead 
one,  but  my  hands  were  too  feeble  ;  so  I  twisted 
the  rope  round  my  arm,  gave  the  word,  and  raced 
off  abreast  the  dog  train.  The  creatures  went 
faster  with  lightened  sleigh,  but  every  step  I  took 
was  a  knife-thrust  through  half-frozen  awakening 
limbs.  Not  the  man  who  is  frozen  to  death, 
but  the  man  who  is  half-frozen  and  thawed  back 
to  life,  knows  the  cruelties  of  northern  cold. 

In  a  stupefied  way,  I  was  aware  the  dogs 
had  taken  a  sudden  turn  to  the  left  and  were 
scrambling  up  the  bank.  Here  my  strength 
failed  or  I  tripped;  for  I  only  remember  being 
dragged  through  the  snow,  rolling  over  and  over, 
to  a  doorway,  where  the  huskies  stopped  and  set 
up  a  great  whining.  Somehow,  I  floundered  to 
my  feet.  With  a  blaze  of  light  that  blinded  me, 
the  door  flew  open  and  I  fell  across  the  thresh- 
old unconscious. 

•  ••••• 

Need  I  say  what  door  opened,  what  hands 
drew  me  in  and  chafed  life  into  the  benumbed 
being? 

"  What  was  the  matter,  Rufus  Gillespie  ? " 
asked  a  bluff  voice  the  next  morning.  I  had 
awakened  from  what  seemed  a  long,  troubled 
sleep  and  vaguely  wondered  where  I  was. 

"What  happened  to  ye,  Rufus  Gillespie?" 
and  the  man's  hand  took  hold  of  my  wrist  to  feel 
my  pulse. 

*  Don't,  father  !  you'll  hurt  him  !  "  said  a  voice 
that  was  music  to  my  ears,  and  a  woman's  hand, 


388  Lords  of  the  North 

whose  touch  was  healing,  began  bathing  my 
blistered  palms. 

At  once  I  knew  where  I  was  and  forgot  pain. 
In  few  and  confused  words  I  tried  to  relate  what 
had  happened. 

"  The  country's  yours,  Mr.  Sutherland,"  said 
I,  too  weak,  thick-tongued  and  deliriously  happy 
for  speech. 

"  Much  to  be  thankful  for,"  was  the  Scotch- 
man's comment.  *'  Seven  Oaks  is  avenged.  It 
would  ill  'a*  become  a  Sutherland  to  give  his 
daughter's  hand  to  a  conqueror,  but  I  would  na' 
say  I'd  refuse  a  wife  to  a  man  beaten  as  you 
were,  Rufus  Gillespie,"  and  he  strode  off  to 
attend  to  outdoor  work. 

And  what  next  took  place,  I  refrain  from  relat- 
ing; for  lovers'  eloquence  is  only  eloquent  to 
lovers. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

UNDER   ONE   ROOF 

Nature  is  not  unlike  a  bank.  When  drafts 
exceed  deposits  comes  a  protest,  and  not  infre- 
quently, after  the  protest,  bankruptcy.  From 
the  bufTalo  hunt  to  the  recapture  of  Fort  Doug- 
las by  the  Hudson's  Bay  soldiers,  drafts  on  that 
essential  part  of  a  human  being  called  stamina 
had  been  very  heavy  with  me.  Now  came  the 
casting-up  of  accounts,  and  my  bill  was  minus 
reserve  strength,  with  a  balance  of  debt  on  the 
wrong  side. 

The  morning  after  the  escape  from  Fort  Doug- 
las, when  Mr.  Sutherland  strode  off,  leaving  his 
daughter  alone  with  me,  I  remember  very  well 
that  Frances  abruptly  began  putting  my  pillow 
to  rights.  Instead  of  keeping  wide  awake,  as  I 
should  by  all  the  codes  of  romance  and  common 
sense,  I — poor  fool — at  once  swooned,  with  a 
vague,  glimmering  consciousness  that  I  was 
dying  and  this,  perhaps,  was  the  first  blissful 
glimpse  into  paradise.  When  I  came  to  my 
senses,  Mr.  Sutherland  was  again  standing  by  the 
bedside  with  a  half-shamed  look  of  compassion 
under  his  shaggy  brows. 

**  How  far,"  I  began,  with  a  curious  inability 

3S9 


390  Lords  of  the  North 

to  use  my  wits  and  tongue,  "  how  far — I  mean 
how  long  have  I  been  asleep,  sir?" 

*'  Hoots,  mon !  Dinna  claver  in  that  feckless 
fashion  !  It's  months,  lad,  sin'  ye  opened  y'r 
mouth  wi'  onything  but  daft  gab." 

''  Months  !  "  I  gasped  out.  '*  Have  I  been  here 
for  months?  " 

*'  Aye,  months.  The  plain  was  snaw-white 
when  ye  began  y'r  bit  nappie.  Noo,  d'ye  no 
hear  the  clack  o'  the  geese  through  yon  open 
window?  " 

I  tried  to  turn  to  that  side  of  the  little  room, 
where  a  great  wave  of  fresh,  clear  air  blew  from 
the  prairie.  For  some  reason  my  head  refused 
to  revolve.  Stooping,  the  elder  man  gently 
raised  the  sheet  and  rolled  me  over  so  that  I 
faced  the  sweet  freshness  of  an  open,  sunny  view. 

*'  Did  I  rive  ye  sore,  lad  ?  "  asked  the  voice  with 
a  gruffness  in  strange  contradiction  to  the  gen- 
tleness of  the  touch. 

Now  I  hold  that  however  rasping  a  man's 
words  may  be,  if  he  handle  the  sick  with  gentle- 
ness, there  is  much  goodness  under  the  rough 
surface.  Thoughtlessness  and  stupidity,  I  know, 
are  patent  excuses  for  half  the  unkindness  and 
sorrow  of  life.  But  thoughtlessness  and  stupid- 
ity are  also  responsible  for  most  of  life's  brutality 
and  crime.  Not  spiteful  intentions  alone,  but  the 
dulled,  brutalized,  deadened  sensibilities — that  go 
under  the  names  of  thoughtlessness  and  stupidity 
— make  a  man  treat  something  weaker  than  him- 
self with  roughness,  or  in  an  excessive  degree, 


Under  One  Roof  39i 

qualify  for  murder.  When  the  harsh  voice  asked, 
"  Do  I  rive  ye  sore  ?  "  I  began  to  understand  how 
surface  roughness  is  as  often  caused  by  life's 
asperities  as  by  the  inner  dullness  akin  to  the 
brute. 

Indeed,  if  my  thoughts  had  not  been  so  intent 
on  the  daughter,  I  could  have  found  Mr.  Suther- 
land's character  a  wonderfully  interesting  study. 
The  infinite  capacity  of  a  canny  Scot  for  keep- 
ing his  mouth  shut  I  never  realized  till  I  knew 
Mr.  Sutherland.  For  instance,  now  that  con- 
sciousness had  returned,  I  noticed  that  the  father 
himself,  and  not  the  daughter,  did  all  the  waiting 
on  me  even  to  the  carrying  of  my  meals. 

"  How  is  your  daughter,  Mr.  Sutherland  ?  "  I 
asked,  surely  a  natural  enough  question  to  merit 
a  civil  reply. 

«  Aye — is  it  Frances  y'r  speerin'  after  ?  "  he  an- 
swered, meeting  my  question  with  a  question  ; 
and  he  deigned  not  another  word.  But  I  lay  in 
wait  for  him  at  the  next  meal. 

"  I  haven't  seen  your  daughter  yet,  Mr.  Suth- 
erland," I  stuttered  out  with  a  deal  of  blushing. 
"  I  haven't  even  heard  her  about  the  house." 

"  No  ? "  he  asked  with  a  show  of  surprise. 
''  Have  ye  no  seen  Frances  ?  "  And  that  was  all 
the  satisfaction  I  got. 

Between  the  dinner  hour  and  supper  time  I 
conjured  up  various  plots  to  hoodwink  paternal 
caution. 

''  Mr.  Sutherland,"  I  began,  ''  I  have  a  message 
for  your  daughter." 


392  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Aye/'  said  he. 

"  I  wish  her  to  hear  it  personally." 

*'Aye." 

"  When  may  I  see  her  ?  ** 

"  Ye  maun  bide  patient,  lad  !  " 

*'  But  the  message  is  urgent."  That  was  true; 
/or  had  not  forty-eight  hours  passed  since  I  had 
regained  consciousness  and  I  had  heard  neither 
her  footsteps  nor  her  voice  ? 

"  Aye,"  said  the  imperturbable  father. 

"Very  urgent,  Mr.  Sutherland,"  I  added. 

"Aye." 

"  When  may  I  see  her,  Sir?  " 

"AH  in  guid  time.     Ye  maun  bide  quiet,  lad." 

"The  message  cannot  wait,"  I  declared.  "It 
must  be  given  at  once." 

"  Then  deleever  it  word  for  word  to  me,  young 
mon,  and  I'll  trudge  off  to  Frances." 

"  Your  daughter  is  not  at  home  ?  " 

"  What  words  wu'l  ye  have  me  bear  to  her, 
lad  ?  "  he  asked. 

That  was  too  much  for  a  youth  in  a  peevish 
state  of  convalescence.  W^hat  lover  could  send 
his  heart's  eloquence  by  word  of  mouth  with  a 
peppery,  prosaic  father? 

"Tell  Mistress  Sutherland  I  must  see  her  at 
once,"  I  quickly  responded  with  a  flash  of  temper 
that  was  ever  wont  to  flare  up  when  put  to  the 
test. 

"  Aye,"  he  answered,  with  an  amused  look  in 
the  cold,  steel  eyes.  "  I'll  deleever  y'r  message 
when — when  " — and  he  hesitated  in  a  way  sug- 


Under  One  Roof  393 

gestive  of  eternity — '*  I'll  deleever  yV  message 
when  I  see  her." 

At  that  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall  in  the 
bitterness  of  spirit  which  only  the  invalid,  with 
all  the  strength  of  a  man  in  his  whims  and  the 
weakness  of  an  infant  in  his  body,  knows.  I 
spent  a  feverish,  restless  night,  with  the  hard- 
faced  Scotchman  watching  from  his  armchair  at 
my  bedside.  Once,  when  I  suddenly  awakened 
from  sleep,  or  delirium,  his  eyes  were  fastened  on 
my  face  with  a  gleam  of  grave  kindliness. 

'*  Mr.  Sutherland,"  I  cried,  with  all  the  im- 
patience of  a  child,  "  please  tell  me,  where  is 
your  daughter?  " 

'*  I  sent  her  to  a  neighbor,  sin*  ye  came  to  yV 
senses,  lad,"  said  he.  *'  Ye  hae  kept  her  about 
ye  night  and  day  sin'  ye  gaed  daft,  and  losh,  mon, 
ye  hae  gabbled  wild  talk  enough  to  turn  the 
head  o'  ony  lassie  clean  daft.  An'  ye  claver  sic* 
nonsense  when  ye're  daft,  what  would  ye  say 
when  ye're  sane  ?  Hoots,  mon,  ye  maun  learn  to 
baud  y'r  tongue " 

*'  Mr.  Sutherland,"  I  interrupted  in  a  great 
heat,  quite  forgetful  of  his  hospitality,  **  I'm 
sorry  to  be  the  means  of  driving  your  daughter 
from  her  home.  I  beg  you  to  send  me  back  to 
Fort  Douglas " 

"  Haud  quiet,"  he  ordered  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand.  **  An'  wa'd  ye  have  me  expose  the  head 
of  a  mitherless  bairn  to  a'  the  clack  o*  the  auld 
geese  in  the  settlement  ?  Temper  y'r  ardor 
wi*  discretion,  lad  !     'Twas  but  the  day  before 


394  Lords  of  the  North 

yesterday  she  left  and  she  was  sair  done  wi*  nurs- 
ing you  and  losing  of  sleep !  Till  ye're  fair 
y'rsel'  again  and  up,  and  she's  weel  and  rosy  wi' 
full  sleep,  bide  patient  ! " 

That  speech  sent  my  face  to  the  wall  again  ; 
but  this  time  not  in  anger.  And  that  dogged 
fashion  Mr.  Sutherland  had  of  taking  his  own 
way  did  me  many  a  good  turn.  Often  have  I 
heard  those  bragging  captains  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  mercenaries  swagger  into  the  little  cottage 
sitting-room,  while  I  lay  in  bed  on  the  other  side  of 
the  thin  board  partition,  and  relate  to  Mr.  Suther- 
land all  the  incidents  of  their  day's  search  for  me. 

"  So  many  pounds  sterling  for  the  man  who 
captures  the  rascal,"  declares  D'Orsonnens. 

"  Aye,  'tis  a  goodly  price  for  one  poor  rattle- 
pate,"  says  Mr.  Sutherland. 

Whereupon,  D'Orsonnens  swears  the  price  is 
more  than  my  poor  empty  head  is  worth,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  describe  me  in  terms  which  Mr.  Suther- 
land will  only  tolerate  when  thundered  from  an 
orthodox  pulpit. 

*'  I'd  have  ye  understand,  Sir,"  he  would  de. 
clare  with  great  dignity,  *'  I'll  have  no  papistical 
profanity  under  my  roof." 

Forthwith,  he  would  show  D'Orsonnens  the 
door,  lecturing  the  astonished  soldier  on  the 
errors  of  Romanism  ;  for  whatever  Mr.  Suthep 
land  deemed  evil,  from  oaths  to  theological 
errors,  he  attributed  directly  to  the  pope. 

"  The  ne'er-do-weel  can  hawk  naething  frae  me," 
said  he  when  relating  the  incident. 


Under  One  Roof  395 

Once  I  heard  a  Fort  Douglas  man  observe  that, 
as  the  search  had  proved  futile,  I  must  have 
fallen  into  one  of  the  air-holes  of  the  ice. 

"  Nae  doot  the  headstrong  young  mon  is  get- 
tin'  what  he  deserves.  I  warrant  he's  warm  in 
his  present  abode,"  answered  Mr.  Sutherland. 

On  another  occasion  D'Orsonnens  asked  who 
the  man  was  that  Mr.  Sutherland's  daughter  had 
been  nursing  all  winter. 

"A  puir  body  driven  from  Fort  Douglas  by 
those  bloodthirsty  villains,"  answered  Mr.  Suther- 
land, giving  his  visitor  a  strong  toddy ;  and  he 
at  once  improved  the  occasion  by  taking  down 
a  volume  and  reading  the  French  officer  a  series 
of  selections  against  Romanism.  After  that 
D'Orsonnens  came  no  more. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  tell  Nor'-West  secrets  in  a 
Hudson's  Bay  house  when  I  was  delirious,  Mr. 
Sutherland,"  I  remarked. 

The  Scotchman  had  lugged  me  from  bed  in  a 
gentle,  lumbering,  well-meant  fashion,  and  I  was 
sitting  up  for  the  first  time. 

*' Ye're  no  the  mon  wi'  a  leak  t'  y'r  mouth.  I 
dinna  say,  though,  ye're  aye  as  discreet  wi'  the 
thoughts  o*  y'r  heart  as  y'r  head  !  Ye  need  na 
fash  y'r  noodle  wi'  remorse  aboot  company 
secrets.  I  canna  say  ye'U  no  fret  aboot  some 
other  things  ye  hae  told.  A'  the  winter  lang, 
'twas  Frances  and  stars  and  spooks  and  speerits 
and  bogies  and  statues  and  graven  images — wha' 
are  forbidden  by  the  Holy  Scriptures — till  the 
lassie  thought  ye  gane  clean  daft  I     'Twas  a  bon. 


396  Lords  of  the  North 

nie  e'e,  like  silver  stars ;  or  a  bit  blush,  like  the 
pippin  ;  or  laughter,  like  a  wimplin'  brook ;  or 
lips,  like  posies ;  or  hair,  like  links  o'  gold  ;  and 
mair  o'  the  like  till  the  lassie  came  rinnin'  oot  o' 
y'r  room,  fair  red  wi'  shame !  Losh,  mon,  ye 
maun  keep  a  still  tongue  in  y'r  head  and  not 
blab  oot  y'r  thoughts  o'  a  wife  till  she  believes 
na  mon  can  hae  peace  wi'out  her.  I  wad  na  hae 
ye  abate  one  jot  o'  all  ye  think,  for  her  price  is 
far  above  rubies ;  but  hae  a  care  wi*  y'r  grand 
talk!  After  ye  gang  to  the  kirk,  lad,  na  mon 
can  keep  that  up." 

His  warning  I  laughed  to  the  winds,  as  youth 
the  world  over  has  ever  laughed  sage  counsels 
of  chilling  age. 

I  can  compare  my  recovery  only  to  the  swift 
transition  of  seasons  in  those  northern  latitudes. 
Without  any  lingering  spring,  the  cold  grayness 
of  long,  tense  winter  gives  place  to  a  radiant  sun- 
burst of  warm,  yellow  light.  The  uplands  have 
long  since  been  blown  bare  of  snow  by  the  March 
winds,  and  through  the  tangle  of  matted  turf 
shoot  myriad  purple  cups  of  the  prairie  anemone, 
while  the  russet  grass  takes  on  emerald  tints. 
One  day  the  last  blizzard  may  be  sweeping  a 
white  trail  of  stormy  majesty  across  the  prairie ; 
the  next  a  fragrance  of  flowers  rises  from  the 
steaming  earth  and  the  snow-filled  ravines  have 
become  miniature  lakes  reflecting  the  dazzle  of 
a  sunny  sky  and  fleece  clouds. 

My  convalescence  was  similar  to  the  coming 
of  summer.     Without  any  weary  fluctuation  from 


Under  One  Roof  397 

well  to  ill,  and  ill  to  well — which  sickens  the 
heart  with  a  deferred  hope — all  my  old-time 
strength  came  back  with  the  glow  of  that  year's 
June  sun. 

"  There's  nae  accountin*  for  some  wilful  folk, 
lad,"  was  Mr.  Sutherland's  remark,  one  evening 
after  I  was  able  to  leave  my  room.  "Ye  hae 
risen  frae  y'r  bed  like  the  crocus  frae  snaw.  An* 
Frances  were  hangin'  aboot  y'r  pillow,  lad,  I'm 
nae  sure  y'd  be  up  sae  dapper  and  smart." 

"  I  thought  my  nurse  was  to  return  when  I 
was  able  to  be  up,"  I  answered,  strolling  to  the 
cottage  door. 

''Come  back  frae  the  door,  lad.  Dinna  show 
y'rsel*  tae  the  enemy.  There  be  more  speerin' 
for  ye  than  hae  love  for  y'r  health.  Have  y'r 
wits  aboot  ye !  Dinna  be  frettin'  y'rsel'  for 
Frances !  The  lassies  aye  rin  fast  enow  tae  the 
mon  wi'  sense  to  hold  his  ain  !  " 

With  that  advice  he  motioned  me  to  the  only 
armchair  in  the  room,  and  sitting  down  on  the 
outer  step  to  keep  watch,  began  reading  some 
theological  disputation  aloud. 

*'  Odds,  lad,  ye  should  see  the  papist  so'diers 
rin  when  I  hae  Calvin  by  me,"  he  remarked. 

"  It's  a  pity  you  can't  lay  the  theological 
thunderers  on  the  doorstep  to  drive  stray  De 
Meurons  off.  Then  you  could  come  in  and  take 
this  chair  yourself,"  I  answered,  sitting  back 
where  no  visitor  could  see  me. 

But  Mr.  Sutherland  did  not  hear.  He  was 
deep  in  polemics,  rolling  out  stout  threats,  that 


398  Lords  of  the  North 

used  Scriptural  texts  as  a  cudgel,  with  a  zest  that 
testified  enjoyment.  "  The  wicked  bend  their 
bow,"  began  the  rasping  voice ;  but  when  he 
cleared  his  throat,  preparatory  to  the  main  argu- 
ment, my  thoughts  went  wandering  far  from  the 
reader  on  the  steps.  As  one  whose  dream  is 
jarred  by  outward  sound,  I  heard  his  tones 
quaver. 

"  Aye,  Frances,  'tis  you,"  he  said,  and  away  he 
went,  pounding  at  the  sophistries  of  some  straw 
enemy. 

A  shadow  was  on  the  threshold,  and  before 
I  had  recalled  my  listless  fancy,  in  tripped  Frances 
Sutherland,  herself,  feigning  not  to  see  me.  The 
gray  eyes  were  veiled  in  the  misty  fashion  of 
those  fluffy  things  women  wear,  which  let  through 
all  beauty,  but  bar  out  intrusion.  I  do  not  mean 
she  wore  a  veil :  veils  and  frills  were  not  seen 
among  the  colonists  in  those  days.  But  the 
heavy  lashes  hung  low  in  the  slumbrous,  dreamy 
way  that  sees  all  and  reveals  nothing.  Instinct- 
ively I  started  up,  with  wild  thoughts  thronging 
to  my  lips.  At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Suther- 
land did  the  most  chivalrous  thing  I  have  seen  in 
homespun  or  broadcloth. 

"  Hoots  wi'  y'r  giddy  claver,"  said  he,  before  I 
had  spoken  a  word  ;  and  walking  off,  he  sat  down 
at  some  distance. 

Thereupon  his  daughter  laughed  merrily  with 
a  whole  quiver  of  dangerous  archery  about  her 
lips. 

*'  That  is  the  nearest  to  an  untruth  I  have  ever 


Under  One  Roof  399 

heard  him  tell,"  she  said,  which  mightily  relieved 
my  embarrassment. 

''Why  did  he  say  that?"  I  asked,  with  my 
usual  stupidity. 

''  I  am  sure  I  cannot  say,"  and  looking  straight 
at  me,  she  let  go  the  barbed  shaft,  that  lies  hidden 
in  fair  eyes  for  unwary  mortals. 

''  Sit  down,"  she  commanded,  sinking  into  the 
chair  I  had  vacated.  **  Sit  down,  Rufus,  please  I  " 
This  with  an  after-shot  of  alarm  from  the  heavy 
lashes;  for  if  a  woman's  eyes  may  speak,  so  may 
a  man's,  and  their  language  is  sometimes  bolder. 

"  Thanks,"  and  I  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  that 
same  chair. 

For  once  in  my  life  I  had  sense  to  keep  my 
tongue  still ;  for,  if  I  had  spoken,  I  must  have 
let  bolt  some  impetuous  thing  better  left  un- 
said. 

"  Rufus,"  she  began,  in  the  low,  thrilling  tones 
that  had  enthralled  me  from  the  first,  "  do  you 
know  I  was  your  sole  nurse  all  the  time  you 
were  delirious?  " 

'*  No  wonder  I  was  delirious  !  Dolt,  that  I 
was,  to  have  been  delirious !  "  thought  I  to  my- 
self;  but  I  choked  down  the  foolish  rejoinder  and 
endeavored  to  look  as  wise  as  if  my  head  had 
been  ballasted  with  the  weight  of  a  patriarch's 
wisdom  instead  of  ballooning  about  like  a  kite  run 
wild. 

*'  I  think  I  know  all  your  secrets." 

'•Oh!"  A  man  usually  has  some  secrets  he 
would  rather  not  share ;  and  though  I  had  not 


400  Lords  of  the  North 

swung  the  full  tether  of  wild  west  freedom — 
thanks  solely  to  her,  not  to  me — I  trembled  at 
recollection  of  the  passes  that  come  to  every 
man's  life  when  he  has  been  near  enough  the 
precipice  to  know  the  sensation  of  falling  without 
going  over. 

"  You  talked  incessantly  of  Miriam  and  Mr. 
Hamilton  and  Father  Holland." 

"  And  what  did  I  say  about  Frances  ?  " 

*'  You  said  things  about  Frances  that  made  her 
tremble." 

"  Tremble  ?  What  a  brute,  and  you  waiting  on 
me  day  and " 

**  Hush,"  she  broke  in.  '*  Tremble  because  I 
am  just  a  woman  and  not  an  angel,  just  a  woman 
and  not  a  star.  We  women  are  mortals  just  as 
you  men  are.  Sometimes  we're  fools  as  well  as 
mortals,  just  as  you  men  are  ;  but  I  don't  think 
we're  knaves  quite  so  often,  because  we're  denied 
the  opportunity  and  hedged  about  and  not 
tempted." 

As  she  gently  stripped  away  the  pretty  hypoc- 
risies with  which  lovers  delude  themselves  and 
lay  up  store  for  disappointment,  I  began  to  dis- 
count that  old  belief  about  truth  and  knowledge 
rendering  a  woman  mannish  and  arrogant  and 
assertive. 

*'  You  men  marry  women,  expecting  them  to 
be  angels,  and  very  often  the  angel's  highest  am- 
bition is  to  be  considered  a  doll.  Then  your  hope 
goes  out  and  your  faith " 

**  But,  Frances,"  I  cried,  *'  if  any  sensible  man 


Under  One  Root  401 

had  his  choice  of  an  angel  and  a  fair,  good 
woman " 

*'  Be  sure  to  say  fair,  or  he'd  grumble  because 
he  hadn't  a  doll,"  she  laughed. 

**  No  levity !  If  he  had  choice  of  angels  and 
stars  and  a  good  woman,  he'd  choose  the  woman. 
The  star  is  mighty  far  away  and  cold  and  steely. 
The  angel's  a  deal  too  perfect  to  know  sympathy 
with  faults  and  blunders.  I  tell  you.  Little 
Statue,  life  is  only  moil  and  toil,  unless  love 
transmutes  the  base  metal  of  hard  duty  into  the 
pure  gold  of  unalloyed  delight." 

"  That's  why  I  tremble.  I  must  do  more  than 
angel  or  star!  Oh,  Rufus,  if  I  can  only  live 
up  to  what  you  think  I  am — and  you  can  live 
up  to  what  I  think  you  are,  life  will  be  worth 
living." 

•'  That's  love's  leverage,"  said  I. 

Then  there  was  silence ;  for  the  sun  had  set 
and  the  father  was  no  longer  reading.  Shadows 
deepened  into  twilight,  and  twilight  into  gloam- 
ing. And  it  was  the  hour  when  the  brooding 
spirit  of  the  vast  prairie  solitudes  fills  the  still- 
ness of  night  with  voiceless  eloquence.  Why 
should  I  attempt  to  transcribe  the  silent  music 
of  the  prairie  at  twilight,  which  ever}'  plain- 
dweller  knows  and  none  but  a  plain-dweller 
may  understand  ?  What  wonder  that  the  race 
native  to  this  boundless  land  hears  the  rustling 
of  spirits  in  the  night  wind,  the  sigh  of  those  who 
have  lost  their  way  to  the  happy  hunting-ground, 

and  the  wail  of  little  ones  whose  feet  are  bruised 
26 


402  Lords  of  the  North 

on  the  shadow  trail  ?  What  wonder  the  gauzy 
northern  Hghts  are  bands  of  marshaHng  warriors 
and  the  stars  torches  lighting  those  who  ride  the 
plains  of  heaven  ?  Indeed,  I  defy  a  white  man 
with  all  the  discipline  of  science  and  reason  tore- 
strain  the  wanderings  of  mystic  fancy  during  the 
hours  of  sunset  on  the  prairie. 

There  is,  I  affirm,  no  such  thing  as  time  for 
lovers.  If  they  have  watches  and  clocks,  the 
wretched  things  run  too  fast ;  and  if  the  sun  him- 
self stood  still  in  sympathy,  time  would  not  be 
long.  So  I  confess  I  have  no  record  of  time  that 
night  Frances  Sutherland  returned  to  her  home 
and  Mr.  Sutherland  kept  guard  at  the  door.  When 
he  had  passed  the  threshold  impatiently  twice, 
I  recollected  with  regret  that  it  was  impossible 
to  read  theology  in  the  dark.  The  third  time  he 
thrust  his  head  in. 

"  Mind  y'rselves,"  he  called.  "  I  hear  men 
coming  frae  the  river,  a  pretty  hour,  indeed,  for 
visitin'.  Frances,  go  ben  and  see  yon  back 
window's  open ! " 

"  The  soldiers  from  the  fort,"  cried  Frances 
with  a  little  gasp. 

'*  Don't  move,"  said  I.  *'  They  can't  see  me 
here.  It's  dark.  I  want  to  hear  what  they  say 
and  the  window  is  open.  Indeed,  Frances,  I'm 
an  expert  at  window-jumping,"  and  I  had  be- 
gun to  tell  her  of  my  scrape  with  Louis*  drunken 
comrades  in  Fort  Douglas,  when  I  heard  Mr. 
Sutherland's  grating  tones  according  the  new- 
comers a  curious  welcome. 


Under  One  Roof  403 

*'Ye  swearin',  blasphemin*,  rampag'us,  carous- 
in*  infidel,  ye'U  no  darken  my  doorway  this 
night.  Y'r  French  gab  may  be  foul  wi'  oaths 
for  all  I  ken ;  but  ye'U  no  come  into  my  hoose  ! 
An*  you,  Sir,  a  blind  leader  o'  the  blind,  a  dis- 
ciple o'  Beelzebub,  wi'  y'r  Babylonish  idolatries, 
wi'  y'r  incense  that  fair  stinks  in  the  nostrils  o* 
decent  folk,  wi'  y'r  images  and  mummery  and 
crossin'  o'  y'rsel',  wi'  y'r  pagan,  popish  practises, 
wi'  y'r  skirts  and  petticoats,  I'll  no  hae  ye  on  my 
premises,  no,  not  an'  ye  leave  y'r  religion  out- 
side !  An'  you,  Meester  Hamilton,  a  respectable 
Protestant,  I'm  fair  surprised  to  see  ye  in  sic' 
company." 

"  *Tis  Eric  and  Father  Holland  and  Laplante," 
I  shouted,  springing  to  my  feet  and  rushing  to 
the  doorway,  but  Frances  put  herself  before 
me. 

''  Keep  back,"  she  whispered.  '*  The  priest  and 
Mr.  Hamilton  have  been  here  before  ;  but  father 
would  not  let  them  in.  The  other  man  may 
be  a  De  Meuron.  Be  careful,  Rufus  !  There's 
a  price  on  your  head." 

«  Ho — ho— my  Ursus  Major,  prime  guardian  of 
Ursa  Major,  first  of  the  heavenly  constellations 
in  the  north,"  insolently  laughed  Louis  Laplante 
through  the  dusk. 

''  Let  me  pass,  Frances,"  I  begged,  thrust- 
ing her  gently  aside,  but  her  trembling  hands 
still  clung  to  my  arm. 

**  Impertinent  rascal,"  rasped  the  irate  Scotch- 
man.     '*  I'd   have   ye     understand    my    name's 


404  Lords  of  the  North 

Sutherland,  not  Major  Ursus,  I'll  no  bide  \vi* 
y'r  impudence  !     Leave  this  place " 

''The  Bruin  growls,"  interrupted  Louis  with  a 
laugh,  and  I  heard  Mr.  Sutherland's  gasp  of 
amazed  rage  at  the  lengths  of  the  Frenchman's 
insolence. 

*'  I  must,  dearest,"  I  whispered,  disengaging  the 
slender  hands  from  my  arm  ;  and  I  flung  out  into 
the  dusk. 

In  the  gloom,  my  approach  was  unnoticed ; 
and  when  I  came  upon  the  group,  Father  Hol- 
land had  laid  his  hand  upon  Mr.  Sutherland's 
shoulder  and  in  a  low,  tense  voice  was  uttering 
words,  which — thank  an  all-bountiful  Providence  ! 
— have  no  sectarian  limits. 

''And  the  King  shall  answer  and  say  unto 
them,  '  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took  me  not  in  : 
naked  and  ye  clothed  me  not  :  sick  and  in  prison 
and  ye  visited  me  not.  Verily  I  say  unto  you, 
inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  ye  did  it  not  to  me  ' " 

"  Dinna  con  Holy  Writ  to  me.  Sir,"  interrupt- 
ed Mr.  Sutherland,  throwing  the  priest's  hand  off 
and  jerking  back. 

Then  Louis  Laplante  saw  me.  There  was  a 
long,  low  whistle. 

"  Ye  daft  gommerel,"  gasped  Mr.  Sutherland, 
facing  me  with  unutterable  disgust.  "Ye  daft 
gommerel  ?  A'  my  care  and  fret,  waste — gane 
clean  to  waste.     I  wash  m'  hands  o'  ye " 

But  Louis  had  knocked  the  Scotchman  aside 
^nd  tumbled  into  my  arms,  half  laughing,  half 


Under  One  Roof  405 

Crying  and  altogether  as  hysterical  as  was  his 
wont. 

"  I  pay  you  back  at  las*,  my  comrade  !  Ha — 
old  solemncholy!  You  thought  the  bird  of 
passage,  he  come  not  back  at  all !  But  the  birds 
return !  So  does  Louis !  He  decoy-duck  the 
whole  covey !  You  generous  ?  No  more  not 
generous  than  the  son  of  a  seigneur,  mine  enemy  ! 
You  give  life  ?  He  give  life  !  You  give  liberty  ! 
So  does  Louis !  You  help  one  able  help  him- 
self ?  Louis  help  one  not  able  help  himself! 
Ha!  Trts  bien !  Noblesse  oblige!  La  Gloire ! 
She — near  !  She  here !  She  where  I,  Louis 
Laplante,  son  of  a  seigneur,  snare  that  she-devil, 
trap  that  fox,  trick  the  tigress  !  Ha — ol'  tomb- 
stone !  Noblesse  oblige — I  say  !  She  near — she 
here,"  and  he  flung  up  both  arms  like  a  frenzied 
maniac. 

"Man!  Are  you  mad?*'  I  demanded,  uncer- 
tain whether  he  were  apostrophizing  Diable's 
squaw,  or  abstract  glory.  "  Speak  out ! "  I 
shouted,  shaking  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"These— are  they  all  friends?"  asked  Louis, 
suddenly  cooled  and  looking  suspiciously  at  the 
group. 

"All,"  said  I,  still  holding  him  by  the 
shoulder. 

"That — that  thing— that  bear — that  bruin — 
he  a  friend  ?  "  and  Louis  pointed  to  Mr.  Suther- 
land. 

"  Friend  to  the  core,"  said  I,  laying  both  hands 
upon  his  shoulders. 


4o6  Lords  of  the  North 

"  Core  with  prickles  outside,"  gibed  Louis. 

**  Louis,"  I  commanded,  utterly  out  of  patience, 
"what  of  Miriam?  Speak  plain,  man!  Have 
you  brought  the  tribe  as  you  promised?" 

It  must  have  been  mention  of  Miriam's  name, 
for  the  white,  drawn  face  of  Eric  Hamilton  bent 
over  my  shoulder  and  fiery,  glowing  eyes  burned 
into  the  very  soul  of  the  Frenchman.  Louis 
stag;CTered  back  as  if  red  irons  had  been  thrust  in 
his  face. 

"  Sacredie!'  said  he,  backing  against  Father 
Holland,  "  I  am  no  murderer." 

It  was  then  I  observed  that  Frances  Sutherland 
had  followed  me.  Her  slender  white  fingers  were 
about  the  bronzed  hand  of  the  French  adven- 
turer. 

"  Monsieur  Laplante  will  tell  us  what  he 
knows,"  she  said  softly,  and  she  waited  for  his 
answer. 

*' The  daughter  of  LAiglc^'  he  replied  slowly 
and  collectedly,  all  the  while  feasting  upon  that 
fair  face,  "comes  down  the  Red  with  her  tribe 
and  captives,  many  captive  women.  They  pass 
here  to-night.  They  camp  south  the  rapids,  this 
side  of  the  rapids.  Last  night  I  leave  them.  I 
run  forward,  I  find  Le  Petit  Gar^on — how  you 
call  him  ? — Leetle  Fellow?  He  take  me  to  the 
priest.  He  bring  canoe  here.  He  wait  now  for 
carry  us  down.  We  must  go  to  the  rapids — to 
the  camp  !  There  my  contract!  My  bargain,  it 
is  finished,"  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  for 
Frances  had  removed  her  hand  from  his. 


Under  One  Roof  407 

Whether  Louis  Laplante's  excitable  nature 
were  momentarily  unbalanced  by  the  success  of 
his  feat,  I  leave  to  psychologists.  Whether  some 
premonition  of  his  impending  fate  had  wrought 
upon  him  strangely,  let  psychical  speculators 
decide.  Or  whether  Louis,  the  sly  rogue,  worked 
up  the  whole  situation  for  the  purpose  of  draw- 
ing Frances  Sutherland  into  the  scene — which  is 
what  I  myself  suspect — I  refer  to  private  judg- 
ment, and  merely  set  down  the  incidents  as  they 
occurred.  That  was  how  Louis  Laplante  told  us 
of  bringing  Diable's  squaw  and  her  captives  back 
to  Red  River.  And  that  was  how  Father  Hol- 
land and  Eric  and  Louis  and  Mr.  Sutherland  and 
myself  came  to  be  embarking  with  a  camping 
outfit  for  a  canoe-trip  down  the  river. 

**  Have  the  Lidians  passed,  or  are  they  to 
come .''  "  I  asked  Louis  as  Mr.  Sutherland  and 
Eric  settled  themselves  in  a  swift,  light  canoe, 
leaving  the  rest  of  us  to  take  our  places  in  a  larger 
craft,  where  Little  Fellow,  gurgling  pleased  recog- 
nition of  me,  acted  as  steersman. 

*'  They  come  later.  The  fast  canoe  go  forward 
and  camp.  We  watch  behind,"  ordered  Louis, 
winking  at  me  significantly, 

I  saw  Frances  step  to  her  father's  canoe. 

"You're  no  coming,  Frances,"  he  protested, 
querulously. 

"  Don't  say  that,  father.  I  never  disobeyed 
you  in  my  life,  and  I  am  coming!  Don't  tell  me 
not  to  !  Push  out,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  and  she  picked 
up  a  paddle  and  I  saw  the   canoe    dart    swiftly 


4o8  Lords  of  the  North 

forward  into  mid-current,  where  the  darkness  en- 
veloped it ;  and  we  followed  fast  in  its  wake. 

"  Louis,"  said  I,  trying  to  fathom  the  meaning 
of  his  wink,  "  are  those  Indians  to  come  yet  ?  " 

"No.  Simpleton — you  think  Louis  a  fool?" 
he  asked. 

"  Why  did  you  lie  to  them?" 

"  Get  them  out  of  the  way." 

"  Why  ?  " 

'*  Because,  stupid,  some  ones  they  be  killed  to- 
night !  The  Englishman,  he  have  a  wife — he  not 
be  killed  !  Mademoiselle— she  love  a  poor  fool 
— or  break  her  pretty  heart !  The  father — he 
needed  to  stick-pin  you  both — so  you  never  want 
for  to  fight  each  other,"  and  Louis  laughed  low 
like  the  purr  of  water  on  his  paddle-blade. 

'*  Faith,  lad,"  cried   the   priest,  who  had  been 

unnaturally   silent,   because,   I    suppose,   he  was 

among    aliens    to    his  faith,    "  faith,  lad,  'tis    a 

good  heart  ye  have,  if  ye'd   but  cut  loose  from 

the  binding  past.     May  this  night  put  an  end  to 

your  devil  pranks !  " 

.  •  •  •  • 

And  that  night  did ! 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE   LAST   OF   LOUIS'   ADVENTURES 

I  THINK,  perhaps,  the  reason  good  enterprises 
fail  so  often  where  evil  ventures  succeed,  is  that 
the  good  man  blunders  forward,  trusting  to  the 
merits  of  his  cause,  where  the  evil  manipulator 
proceeds  warily  as  a  cat  over  broken  glass.  And 
so,  altogether  apart  from  his  services  as  guide,  I 
felt  Louis  Laplante's  presence  on  the  river  a  dis- 
tinct advantage. 

"  The  Lord  is  with  us,  lad.  She  shall  be  de- 
livered !  The  Lord  is  with  us ;  but  don't  you 
bungle  His  plans  I "  ejaculated  Father  Holland 
for  the  twentieth  time  ;  and  each  time  the  French 
trapper  looked  waggishly  over  his  shoulder  at 
me  and  winked. 

''  Bungle  !     Pah  !  "     Louis  clapped  his  paddle 

athwart  the  canoe  and  laughed  a  low,  sly,  defiant 

laugh.     "  Bungle  !      Pah  !      Catch  Louis  bungle 

his  cards,  ha,  ha!     Trumps!     He  play  trumps — 

he  hold  his  hand  low — careless — nodings  in  it — 

he  keep  quiet — nodings  worth  play  in  his  hand — 

but  his  sleeve — ha,  ha  !  "  and  Louis  laughed  softly 

and  winked  at  the  full  moon. 

''The  daughter  of  L'Aigle,  she  cuff  Louis,  she 

409 


^10  Lords  of  the  North 

slap  his  cheek,  she  call  him  lump — lout — slouch! 
Ha,  ha! — Louis  no  fool — he  pare  the  claws  of 
L'Aigle  to-night  ! " 

At  that,  Little  Fellow's  stolid  face  took  on  a 
vindictive  gleam,  and  he  snapped  out  something 
in  Indian  tongue  which  set  Louis  to  laughing. 
Suddenly  the  Indian's  paddle  was  suspended  in 
mid-air,  and  Little  Fellow  bent  over  the  prow, 
gazing  at  the  moon-tracked  water. 

^^  Sacredie  /  ''  cried  Louis,  catching  up  water 
that  trickled  through  his  fingers,  "  'tis  dried  rabbit 
thong  !  They  are  ahead  of  us  !  They  have  passed 
while  that  Scotch  mule  was  balk !  We  must 
catch  the  Englishman,"  and  he  began  hitting  out 
with  his  paddle  at  a  great  rate. 

We  had  overtaken  Mr.  Sutherland's  canoe 
within  half  an  hour  of  Louis'  discovery,  and  Eric 
wheeled  about  with  a  querulous  demand. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  Are  they  ahead  ?  I  thought 
you  said  they  were  behind,"  and  he  turned  sus- 
piciously to  Laplante. 

"  You  thought  wrong,"  said  Louis,  ever  facile 
with  subterfuges.  "  You  thought  wrong.  Mister 
High-and-Mighty  !  Camp  here  and  watch  ;  they 
come  before  morning! " 

*'  No  lies  to  me,"  shouted  Eric,  becoming  un- 
controllably excited.  *'  If  you  mislead  us,  your 
life  shall " 

"  Pig-head !  I  no  save  your  wife  for  back 
chin  !  Camp  here,  I  say,"  and  Louis'  fitful  tem- 
per began  to  show  signs  of  sulking. 

*'  For   goodness*    sake,  Eric,   do   what   you're 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     411 

told  !     We've    made  a  bad  enough  business  of 

it " 

**  Give  the  Frenchman  a  chance !  Do  what 
you're  told,  I  say,  ye  blunderers !  Troth,  the 
Lord  Himself  couldn't  bring  success  to  such 
blundering  idiots,"  was  Father  Holland's  com- 
ment. 

*'  I'll  take  na  orders  frae  meddlesome  papists," 
began  the  Scotchman ;  but  Little  Fellow  had 
forcibly  turned  the  prow  of  the  canoe  shoreward. 
I  gave  them  a  shove  with  my  paddle.  Frances 
took  the  cue,  and  while  her  father  was  yet  scold- 
ing raised  her  paddle  and  had  them  close  to  the 
river  bank. 

"  Get  your  tent  up  here,"  I  called  to  conciliate 
them.  "  Then  come  to  the  bank  and  watch  for 
the  Indians." 

A   bit  of  clean  gravel  ran  out  from  the  clay 

cliff. 

''  That's  the  ground,"  said  I,  as  the  other  canoe 
bumped  over  the  pebbles  ;  and  I  stopped  pad- 
dling and  dangled  my  hand  in  the  water. 

Something  in  the  dark  drifted  wet  and  soft 
against  my  fingers.  Ordinarily  such  an  incident 
\\T>uld  not  have  alarmed  me ;  but  instantly  a 
shudder  of  apprehension  ran  through  my  frame. 
I  scarce  had  courage  to  look  into  the  river  lest 
the  white  face  of  a  woman  should  appear  through 
the  watery  depths.  Clutching  the  water-soaked 
tangle,  I  jerked  it  up.  Something  gave  with  a 
rip,°and  my  hand  was  full  of  shawl  fringe. 

*'♦  What's  that,  Rufus?  "  asked  Father  Holland. 


412  Lords  of  the  North 

*'  Don't  know."  I  motioned  him  to  be  silent 
and  held  it  up  in  the  moonlight  Distinctly  it 
was,  or  had  been,  red  fringe. 

"  Do  you  think — -"  he  began,  then  stopped. 
Our  keel  had  rubbed  bottom  and  Hamilton  was 
springing  out  of  the  other  canoe. 

''Yes,  I  do,"  I  replied,  choking  with  dread. 
**  This  is  too  terrible  !  He'll  kill  himself !  Go 
up  the  bank  with  him  !  Keep  him  busy  at  the 
tent!  Little  Fellow  and  I'll  pole  for  it.  The 
water's  shallow  there " 

''What  do  ^ou  think?''  said  the  priest  to 
Laplante. 

"  T'ink  !  I  never  t'ink !  I  finds  out."  But 
all  the  same,  Louis'  assurance  was  shaken  and  he 
peered  searchingly  into  the  river. 

"Aren't  you  coming?  What's  your  plan?" 
called  Eric. 

"  Certainly  we  are,  but  get  this  truck  to  higher 
ground,  will  you?"  I  hoisted  out  the  camp  trap- 
pings.    "  I  want  to  paddle  out  for  something." 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Something  lost  out  there.  I  lost  it  out  of 
my  hand." 

Frances  Sutherland,  I  know,  suspected  trouble 
from  the  alarm  which  I  could  not  keep  out  of 
my  speech ;  for  she  pressed  to  the  water's  edge. 

"  Get  the  tent  ready,"  I  urged. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  mystery  ?  "  per- 
sisted Hamilton  sharply.  "  What  have  you 
lost?" 

"  Don't  press  him  too  closely.     Faith,  it  may 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     413 

be  a  love  token,"  interjected  Father  Holland,  as 
he  stepped  ashore  ;  but  he  whispered  in  my  ear  as 
he  passed,  ''You're  wrong,  lad  I     You're  on  the 

wrong  track  I " 

I  leaped  back  to  the  canoe,  Little  Fellow  and 
the  Frenchman  following,  and  we  paddled  to  the 
shallows  where  I  had  caught  the  fringe.     I  prod- 
ded the  soft  mud  below  and   trailed  the    paddle 
back  and  forward  over  the   clay  bottom.     Louis 
did  likewise :  but  in  vain.     Only  soft  ooze  came 
up  on  the  blade.     Then   Little   Fellow  stripped 
and  dived.     Of  course  it  was  dark  under  water,  as 
it  always  is  dark  under  the   muddy  Red,  and  the 
Indian  could  not  feel  a  thing  from  which  fringe 
could    have    ripped.     Had    my    jerk    disturbed 
whatever  it  was  and  sent  it  rolling  down  to  mid- 
current  ?     I  asked  Father  Holland  this  when  I 

came  back. 

"Tush,  faint-heart,"  he  muttered,  drawing  me 
aside.     ''  'Tis  only  a  trial  of  your  faith." 

I  said  something  about  trials  of  faith  which  I 
shall  not  repeat  here,  but  which  the  majority  of 
people,  who  are  on  the  tenter-hooks  of  such  trials, 
have  said  for  themselves. 

'*  Faith  !  Pah  I  "  exclaimed  Louis,  joining  our 
whispered  conference,  while  Eric  and  Mr.  Suther- 
land  were  hoisting  a  tent.  "  That  shawl,  it  mean 
nodings  of  things  heavenly  !  It  only  mean  rag 
stuck  in  the  mud  and  reds  nearabouts  here!  I 
have  told  the  Great  Bear  and  his  snarl  English- 
man the  Indians  not  come  till  morning.  They 
get  tent  ready  and  watch  !     You  follow  Louis,  he 


414  Lords  of  the  North 

lead  you  to  camp.  The  priest — he  good  for  say 
a  Httle  prayer;  the  Indian  for  fight ;  Louis — for 
swear;  Rufus — to  snatch  the  Enghshwoman,  he 
good  at  snatching  the  fair,  ha-ha. " 

He  darted  to  the  shore,  cahing  Little  Fellow 
from  the  canoe  and  leaving  Father  Holland  and 
me  to  follow  as  best  we  could. 

'*  We'll  be  back  soon,  Eric,"  I  shouted.  "  We're 
going  to  get  the  lie  of  the  land.  Keep  watch 
here,"  and  I  broke  into  a  run  to  keep  up  with  the 
French  trapper  and  the  Indian,  who  were  leading 
into  the  woods  away  from  the  river.  I  could  hear 
Father  Holland  puffing  behind  like  a  wind-blown 
racer.     Abruptly  the  priest  came  to  a  stop. 

"  By  all  the  saints,"  he  ordered.  **  Go  back  to 
the  tent!" 

I  turned.  A  white  form  emerged  from  the  foli- 
age and  Frances  was  beside  me. 

*'  May  I  not  come  ?"  she  asked. 

*'  No — dearest,  there  will  be  fighting. " 

"  No — Lord — no,"  panted  Father  Holland  com- 
ing up  to  us.  "  W^e're  not  swapping  one  woman 
for  another.    What  would  Rufus  do  without  ye  ?  " 

"  You  are  going  for  Miriam?"  she  questioned, 
holding  my  hand.  '^  God  speed  you  and  bring 
you  back  safely  !  " 

"  Say  rather — bring  Miriam,"  and  I  unfastened 
the  clinging  hand  almost  roughly. 

'*  Come  on,  slugs,  sloths,  laggards,"  commanded 
Laplante  impatiently,  and  we  dashed  into  the 
thick  of  the  woods,  leaving  the  white  figure  alone 
against  the  shadowy    thicket.     She    called    out 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     415 

something,  of  which  I  heard  only  two  words, 
*•  Miriam  "  and  '*  Rufus  ";  but  I  knew  those  names 
were  uttered  in  supplication  and  they  filled  my 
heart  with  daring  hope.  Surely,  we  must  succeed 
—for  the  Little  Statue's  prayers  were  following 
me— and  I  bounded  on  with  a  faith  as  buoyant  as 
the  priest's  blind  trust.  Thus  we  ran  through  the 
moon-shafted  woods  pursuing  the  flitting,  lithe 
figures  of  trapper  and  Indian,  who  scarce  disturbed 
a  fern  leaf,  while  Father  Holland  and  I  floundered 
through  the  underbrush  like  ramping  elephants. 
Then  I  found  myself  panting  as  hard  as  the  priest 
and  clinging  to  his  arm  for  support ;  for  illness 
had  taken  all  the  bravery  out  of  my  muscles,  like 
champagne  uncorked  and  left  in  the  heat. 

♦'Brace  yourself,  lad,"  said  the  priest.  ''The 
Lord  is  with  us,  but  don't  you  bungle." 

A  long,  low  whistle  came  through  the  dark,  a 
whistle  that  was  such  a  perfect  imitation  of  the 
night  hawk,  no  spy  might  detect  it  for  the  signal 
of  a  runner.  After  the  whistle,  was  the  soft,  om- 
inous hiss  of  a  serpent  in  the  grass  ;  and  we  were 
abreast  of  Louis  Laplante  and  Little  Fellow  stand- 
ing stock  still  sniffing  forward  as  hounds  might 
scent  a  foe. 

"  She  may  not  be  there  !  She  may  be  drown  ;  " 
whispered  Louis,  "  but  we  creep  on,  quiet  like 
hare,  no  noise  like  deer,  stiller  than  mountain  cat, 
hist — what  that  ?  " 

The  night  breeze  set  the  leaves  all  atremble — 
clapping  their  hands,  as  the  Indians  call  it— and 
a  whiff  of  burning  bark  tainted  the  air. 


41 6  Lords  of  the  North 

'*  That's  it,"  said  I  under  my  breath. 

The  smoke  was  blowing  from  wooded  flats  be- 
tween us  and  the  river.  Cautiously  parting  inter- 
laced branches  and  as  carefully  replacing  each 
bough  to  prevent  backward  snap,  we  turned  down 
the  sloping  bank.  I  suppose  necessity's  training 
in  the  wilds  must  produce  the  same  result  in  man 
and  beast  ;  and  from  that  fact,  faddists  of  the  vari- 
ous "  osophies  "  and  "  ologies  "  may  draw  what  con- 
clusions they  please  ;  but  I  af^rm  that  no  panther 
could  creep  on  its  prey  with  more  stealth,  caution 
and  cunning  than  the  trapper  and  Indian  on  the 
enemy's  camp.  I  have  seen  wild  creatures  ap- 
proaching a  foe  set  each  foot  down  with  noiseless 
tread ;  but  I  have  never  seen  such  a  combination 
of  instincts,  brute  and  human,  as  Louis  and  Little 
Fellow  displayed.  The  Indian  felt  the  ground  for 
tracks  and  pitfalls  and  sticks,  that  might  crackle. 
Louis,  with  his  whole  face  pricked  forward,  trusted 
more  to  his  eyes  and  ears  and  that  sense  of  "  feel," 
which  is — contradictory  as  it  may  seem — utterly 
intangible.  Once  the  Indian  picked  up  a  stick 
freshly  broken.  This  was  examined  by  both,  and 
the  Indian  smelt  it  and  tried  his  tongue  on  the 
broken  edge.  Then  both  fell  on  all  fours,  creep- 
ing under  the  branches  of  the  thicket  and  paus- 
ing at  every  pace. 

"  Would  that  I  had  taken  lessons  in  forest  lore 
before  I  went  among  the  Sioux,"  I  thought  to 
myself.  Now  I  knew  what  had  been  incompre- 
hensible before — why  all  my  well-laid  plans  had 
been  detected. 


The  Last  of  Louis*  Adventures     417 

A  wind  rustled  through  the  foliage.  That  was 
in  our  favor  ;  for  in  spite  of  our  care  the  leaves 
crushed  and  crinkled  beneath  us.  At  intervals  a 
glimmer  of  light  shone  from  the  beach.  Louis 
paused  and  listened  so  intently  our  breathing 
was  distinctly  audible.  A  vague  murmur  of  low 
voices — like  the  ''  talking  of  the  trees  "  in  Little 
Fellow's  language — floated  up  from  the  river; 
and  in  the  moonlight  I  saw  Laplante  laugh  noise- 
lessly. Trees  stood  farther  apart  on  the  flats  and 
brushwood  gave  place  to  a  forest  of  ferns,  that 
concealed  us  in  their  deep  foliage  ;  but  the  thick 
growth  also  hid  the  enemy,  and  we  knew  not  at 
what  moment  we  might  emerge  in  full  view  of 
the  camp.  So  we  stretched  out  flat,  spying 
through  the  fern  stalks  before  we  parted  the 
stems  to  draw  ourselves  on  a  single  pace.  Pres- 
ently, the  murmur  separated  into  distinct  voices, 
with  much  low  laughing  and  the  bitter  jeers  that 
make  up  Indian  mirth.  We  could  hear  the  crack- 
ling of  the  fire,  and  wormed  forward  like  cater- 
pillars. 

There  was  a  glare  of  light  through  the  ferns, 
and  Louis  stopped.  We  all  three  pulled  abreast 
of  him.  Lying  there  as  a  cat  watches  a 
mouse,  we  parted  first  one  and  then  another  of 
the  fronds  till  the  Indian  encampment  could  be 
clearly  seen. 

"  Is  that  the  tribe  ?  "  I  whispered  ;  but  Louis 
gripped  my  arm  in  a  vice  t'lit  forbade  speech. 

The  camp  was  not  a  hundred  feet  away.  Fire 
blazed  in  the  centre.  Poles  were  up  for  wig- 
27 


41 8  Lords  of  the  North 

warns,  and  already  skins  had  been  overlaid,  com- 
pleting several  lodges.  i^Ien  lay  in  lazy  attitudes 
about  the  fire.  Squaws  were  taking  what  was 
left  of  the  evening  meal  and  slave-women  were 
putting  things  to  rights  for  the  night.  Sitting 
apart,  with  hands  tied,  were  other  slaves,  chiefly 
young  women  taken  in  some  recent  fray  and  not 
yet  trusted  unbound.  Among  these  was  one 
better  clad  than  the  others.  Her  wrists  were 
tied  ;  but  her  hands  managed  to  conceal  her  face, 
which  was  bowed  low.  In  her  lap  was  a  sleeping 
child.  Was  this  Miriam?  Children  were  with 
the  other  captives ;  but  to  my  eyes  this  woman's 
torn  shawl  appeared  reddish  in  the  fire  glow. 

*'  Let's  go  boldly  up  and  offer  to  buy  the 
slaves,"  I  suggested  ;  but  Louis'  grip  tightened 
forbiddingly  and  Little  Fellow's  forefinger 
pointed  towards  a  big  creature,  who  was  order- 
ing the  others  about.  'Twas  a  woman  of  giant, 
bronzed  form,  with  the  bold  stride  of  a  conquer- 
ing warrior  and  a  trophy-decked  belt  about  her 
waist.  The  fire  shone  against  her  girdle  and 
the  stones  in  the  leather  strap  glowed  back 
blood-red.  Father  Holland  breathed  only  one 
word  in  my  ear,  ''  Agates  ;  "  and  the  fire  of  the 
red  stones  flashed  like  some  mystic  flame  through 
my  being  till  brain  and  heart  were  hot  with 
vengeance  and  my  hands  burned  as  if  every 
nerve  from  palm  to  finger-tips  were  a  blade 
point  reaching  out  to  destroy  that  creature  of 
cruelty. 

''  Diable's  squaw,"  I  gasped  out,  beside  myself 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     419 

with  anger  and  joy.  **  Let  me  but  within  arm's 
length  of  her " 

"  Hold  quiet,"  the  priest  hissed  low  and  angry, 
gripping  my  shoulder  like  a  steel  winch.  "  *  Ven- 
geance is  mine,'  saith  the  Lord  !  See  that  you 
save  the  white  woman  I  Leave  the  evil-doer  to 
God!  The  Lord's  with  us,  but  I  tell  you,  don't 
you  bungle  !  " 

*'  Bungle  !  "  I  could  have  shouted  out  defi- 
ance to  the  whole  band.  ''  Let  go  !  "  I  ordered, 
trying  to  struggle  up ;  for  the  iron  hand  still 
held  me.     *'  Let  go,  or  I'll " 

But  Louis  Laplante's  palm  was  forcibly 
slapped  across  my  mouth  and  his  other  hand  he 
laid  significantly  on  his  dagger,  giving  me  one 
threatening  look.  By  the  firelight  I  saw  his  lips 
mechanically  counting  the  numbers  of  the  enemy 
and  mechanically  I  audited  his  count. 

"  Twenty  men,  thirty  squaws  and  the  slaves," 
said  he  under  his  breath. 

An  Indian  left  the  fire  and  approached  the 
captives. 

''  See  !  Watch  !  Is  that  woman  Miriam  ?  " 
demanded  the  priest.  "  She'll  take  her  hands 
from  her  face  now." 

"  Of  course  it  is  !  "  I  was  furious  at  the  re- 
straint and  hesitancy  ;  but  as  I  said  before,  the 
experienced  intriguer  proceeds  as  warily  as  a  cat. 

*'You  not  sure — not  for  sure — Mo?i  Dieu — no," 
muttered  Laplante  ;  and  he  was  right.  With  the 
forest  shadows  across  the  captives,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  distinguish  the  color  of  their  faces. 


420  Lords  of  the  North 

Taking  a  knife  from  his  belt,  the  Indian  cut  the 
cords  of  all  but  the  woman  with  her  hands  across 
her  face.  A  girl  brought  refuse  of  food  ;  but  this 
woman  took  no  notice,  never  moving  her  hands. 
Thereupon  the  young  squaw  sneered  and  the  In- 
dian idlers  jeered  loud  in  harsh,  strident  laughter. 
This  roused  the  big  squaw.  She  strode  up,  Little 
Fellow  all  the  while  with  glistening  teeth  follow- 
ing her  motions  as  a  cat's  head  turns  to  a  mouse. 
With  the  flat  of  her  hand  she  struck  the  silent 
woman,  who  leaped  up  and  ran  to  a  wigwam.  In 
speechless  fear,  the  child  had  scrambled  to  its 
feet  and  backed  away  from  the  angry  group 
towards  the  ferns  ;  but  the  light  was  fitful  and 
shadowy,  and  we  could  recognize  neither  woman, 
nor  child. 

'*  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  I  declared. 
**  I  must  know  if  that's  Miriam.  Let's  draw 
closer." 

Father  Holland  and  I  crawled  stealthily  to 
the  very  border  of  fern  growth,  Louis  and  the 
Indian  lying  still  and  muttering  over  some  plan 
of  action. 

"  Hist,"  said  the  priest,  "  we'll  try  the  child." 

Unlike  naked  Indian  children,  the  little  thing 
had  a  loose  garment  banded  about  its  waist ;  but 
its  feet  were  bare  and  its  hair  as  raven  black  as  that 
of  any  young  savage.  It  stood  like  some  wood- 
land elf  in  the  maze  of  heavy  sleepiness,  at  each 
harsh  word  from  the  camp,  sidling  shyly  closer  to 
our  hiding-place.  We  dragged  forward  till  I  could 
have  touched  the  child,  but  feared  to  startle  it. 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     421 

Putting  his  hand  out  slowly,  Father  Holland 
caught  the  little  creature's  arm.  It  gave  a  start, 
jerked  back  and  looked  in  mute  wonderment  at 
our  strange  hiding-place. 

"  Pretty  boy,"  crooned  the  priest  in  low,  coax- 
ing tones,  gently  tightening  his  hold. 

**  Is  it  white  ?  "  I  whispered. 

*^  I  can't  see." 

"  Good  little  man,"  he  went  on,  slowly  folding 
his  hands  about  it.  Drawing  quickly  back,  he 
lifted  the  child  completely  into  his  arms. 

''  Is  boy  sleepy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Call  him  '  Eric,'  "  I  urged. 

"  Is  Eric  sleepy  ?  " 

The  child's  head  fell  wearily  against  the  priest's 
shoulder.  Snuggling  closer,  he  lisped  back  in 
perfect  English,  ''  Eric's  tired." 

At  once  Father  Holland's  free  hand  caught 
my  arm  as  if  he  feared  I  might  rush  out.  For  a 
moment  neither  of  us  spoke. 

Then  he  said,  "  Give  me  your  coat." 

I  ripped  off  my  buckskin  smock.  Wrapping 
the  sleeping  boy  about,  the  priest  laid  him  gently 
am.ong  the  ferns. 

'^  Where's  the  mother  ?  "  asked  Father  Holland 
with  a  catching  intake  of  breath. 

I  pointed  to  the  wigwam.  The  big  squaw  had 
come  out,  leaving  Miriam  alone  and  was  engaged 
in  noisy  dispute  with  the  men.  Louis  and  Little 
Fellow  had  now  wriggled  abreast  of  us. 

*'  Ha,  ha,  ino7t  brave — your  time,  it  come  now ! 
You  save  the  white  woman  !     I  pay  my  devoirs 


422  Lords  of  the  North 

to  the  lady,  ha,  ha — I  owe  her  much — I  pay  you 
both  back  with  one  stroke,  one  grand  stroke. 
Little  Fellow,  he  watch  for  spring  surprise  and 
help  us  both  !  Swoop — snitch — snatch — snap 
her  up  !  *Tis  done — tra-la  !  "  and  Louis  drew  up 
for  all  the  world  like  a  tiger  about  to  spring,  but 
the  priest  drew  him  down. 

*'  Listen,"  commanded  the  churchman,  in  the 
slow,  tense  way  of  one  who  intended  to  be 
obeyed.  **  I'll  go  back  and  come  up  by  the  beach. 
I'll  brow-beat  them  and  tongue-whack  them  for 
having  slaves.  They'll  offer  fight ;  so'U  I.  They'll 
all  run  down;  that's  your  chance.  Wait  till 
they  all  go.  Til  make  them,  every  one.  That's 
your  chance.  You  rush!  Try  that !  If  it  fail, 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  have  y'r  weapons 
ready — and  the  Lord  be  with  us  !  " 

"  They'll  kill  you,"  I  protested.    "  Let  me  go  I  " 

"You?     What  about  Frances?" 

"  Pah  !  "  said  Louis.     "  I  go  myself— I  trick— 

I  trap — I  snare  'em " 

"  Hush  to  ye,  ye  braggart,"  interrupted  the 
priest.  '*  Gillespie  is  as  flabby  as  dough  from  an 
illness.  'Tis  here  you  sit  quiet,  and  help  with 
Miriam  as  ye'd  save  y'r  soul !  Howld  dowm  with 
y'r  bouncing  nonsense,  lad,  and  the  saints  be  with 
ye  ;  for  it's  a  fight  there'll  be,  and  there  is  the 
fightin'  stuff  of  a  soldier  in  ye!  Never  turn  to 
me — mind  ye  never  turn  to  help  me,  or  the  curse 
of  the  fool  be  on  y'r  head — and  the  Lord  be 
with  us!" 

"  Amen."     But  I  spoke  to  vacancy. 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     423 

While  a  rising  wind  set  the  branches  overhead 
grating  noisily,  he   had  risen   and  darted  away. 
Louis^aplante,  contrary  to   the  priest's  orders, 
also  rose  and  disappeared  in  the  woods.     Little 
Fellow  still  lay  by  me,  but   I   could   not  rely  on 
him  for  intelligent  action,  and   there  came  over 
me  that  sense  of   aloneness  in  danger,  which  I 
knew   so   well    in  the    Mandane    country.     The 
child's  slightest  cry  might  alarm  the  camp,  and  I 
shivered  when  he  breathed  heavily,  or  turned  in 
his  sleep.     The  Indians  might  miss  the  boy  and 
search  the  woods.     Instinctively  my  hand  was  on 
my  pistol.     It  was  well  to  be  as  near  Miriam's 
tent  as  possible;  and  I,  too,  took  advantage  of 
the  wind  to  change  my   place.     I   moved  back, 
signalling  the  Indian  to  follow,  and  skirted  round 
the  open  till   I  was   directly   opposite   Miriam's 
wigwam.     Why  had  Louis  gone  off,  and  why  did 
he^'not  come  back?     Had  he  gone  to  keep  secret 
guard  over  the  priest,   or  to  decoy  the  vigilant 
Sioux  woman  ?     In  his  intentions  I  had  confidence 
enough,  but  not  in  his  judgment.     At  that  mo- 
ment mv  speculations  were  interrupted  by  a  loud 
shout   from  the  beach.     Every  Indian  in  camp 
started  up  as  if  hostiles  had  uttered  their  war- 

^'^'Hallo,  there!  Hallo!  Hallo!"  called  the 
priest.  Indians  dashed  to  the  river,  while  be- 
draggled squaws  and  naked  children  rushed  from 
wigtvams  and  stood  in  clamorous  groups  between 
the  lodges  and  the  water.  The  topmost  branches 
of  the  trees  swayed  back  and  forward  in  the  wind, 


424  Lords  of  the  North 

alternately  throwing  shafts  of  moonlight  and 
shadows  across  the  opening  of  Miriam's  wigwam. 
When  the  light  flooded  the  tent  a  solitary,  white- 
faced  form  appeared  in  dark,  sharp  outline. 
The  bare  arms  were  tied  at  the  wrists,  and  beat 
aimlessly  through  the  darkness.  And  there  was 
a  sound  of  piteous  weeping. 

Should  I  make  the  final,  desperate  dash  now? 
''Don't  bungle  His  plans,"  came  the  priest's 
warning;  and  I  waited.  The  squaws  were  very 
near;  and  the  angular  figure  of  Diable's  wife 
hung  on  the  rear  of  the  group.  She  was  scolding 
like  a  termagant  in  the  Sioux  tongue,  ordering 
the  other  w^omen  to  the  fray ;  but  still  she  kept 
back,  looking  over  her  shoulder  suspiciously  at 
Miriam's  tent,  uncertain  whether  to  go  or  stay. 
We  had  failed  in  every  other  attempt  to  rescue 
Miriam.  If  the  Lord — as  the  priest  believed — 
had  planned  the  suflerer's  aid,  His  instruments 
had  blundered  badly.  There  must  be  no  more 
feeble-fingering. 

''  Thieves  I  Thieves  !  Cut-throats  !  "  bawled 
Father  Holland  in  a  storm  of  abuse.  "Ye  ras- 
cals," he  thundered,  cutting  the  air  with  his  stick 
and  purposely  backing  away  from  the  camp  to 
draw  the  Indians  off.  Then  his  voice  was  lost  in 
a  chorus  of  shrill  screams. 

The  moonlight  shone  across  the  wig\vam  open- 
ing. The  captive  had  heard  the  English  tongue, 
and  was  listening.  But  the  Sioux  squaw  had  also 
heard  and  recognized  the  voice  of  a  former  pris- 
oner.    She  ran  forward  a  pace,   then  hesitated, 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     425 

looking    back    doubtfully.     As    she    turned    her 
head,  out  from  the  gloom  of  the  thicket  with  the 
leap  of  a  lynx,  lithe  and  swift,  sprang  the  crouch- 
ing form  of  Louis  Laplante.     I  felt  Little  Fellow 
all  in  a  tremor   by   my   side  ;  the  tremor   not  of 
fear,  but  of  the  couchant  panther  ;  and  he  uttered 
the  most  vicious   snarl   I  have   ever   heard    from 
human  throat.     Louis  alighted  neatly  and  noise- 
lessly, directly  behind   the   Sioux  woman.     She 
must  have  felt  his  presence,  for  she  turned  round 
and  round  expectantly.     Louis,  silent  and  elusive 
as  a  shadow,  circled  about  her,  tripping  from  side 
to  side  as  she  turned  her  head.     But  the  fire  be- 
trayed him.     She  had  wheeled  towards  the  forest 
as  if  spying  for  the  unseen  presence  among  the 
foliage,  and   Louis  deftly  dodged  behind.     The 
move  put  him  between  the  fire  and   his  antago- 
nist,   and    the  full  profile  of  his  queer,  bending 
figure  was  shadowed  clear  past  the  woman.     She 
turned  like  some  vengeful,  malign  goddess,  and  I 
thought   it   all   up   with  the  daring  trapper;  but 
he  doffed  his  red  toque  and  swept  the  advancing 
fury  the  low  bow  of  a  French  courtier.     Then  he 
drew  himself  erect  and  laughed  insolently  in  the 
woman's  face.     His  careless  assurance  allayed  her 
suspicions. 

''  Oh,  'tis  you  !  "  she  growled. 

^''Tis  I,  fleet-foot,  winged  messenger,  humble 
slave,"  laughed  Louis,  with  another  grotesque 
bow ;  but  the  rogue  had  cleverly  put  himself  be- 
tween the  squaw  and  Miriam's  tent. 

I  should  have  rushed  to  Miriam's  rescue  long 


426  Lords  of  the  North 

since,  instead  of  watching  this  by-play  between 
trapper  and  mountain  cat ;  but  as  the  foray 
waxed  hotter  with  the  priest,  the  young  braves 
had  run  back  to  their  tents  for  guns  and  clubs. 

*'  Stand  off,  ye  scoundrels,"  roared  the  priest, 
in  tones  of  genuine  anger;  for  the  Indians  were 
closing  threateningly  about  him.  **  Stand  back, 
ye  knaves,  ye  sons  of  Satan,"  and  every  soul  but 
Louis  Laplante  and  the  Sioux  squaw  ran  with 
querulous  shouts  to  the  river. 

"  Cruel !  Cruel !  Cruel !  "  sobbed  a  voice  from 
the  wigwam  ;  and  there  was  a  straining  to  break 
the  thongs  which  bound  her.  **  Cruel!  Cruel! 
Hast  Thou  no  pity?  O  my  God  !  Hast  Thou 
no  pity?  Shall  not  a  sparrow  fall  to  the  ground 
without  Thy  knowledge  ?  Is  this  Thy  pity  ?  O 
my  God ! "  The  voice  broke  in  a  torrent  of 
heart-piercing  cries. 

I  could  endure  it  no  longer. 

"Have  at  ye,  ye  villains!  Come  out  like 
men !  Now,  me  brave  bhoys,  show  the  stuff 
that's  in  ye !  A  fig  for  y'r  valor  if  ye  fail !  The 
curse  o'  the  Lord  on  the  coward  heart !  Back 
with  ye,  ye  red  divils  !  Out  with  ye,  Rufus! 
The  Lord  shall  deliver  the  captive  !  What,  'an 
wuld  ye  dare  strike  a  servant  o'  the  Lord  ?  Let 
the  deliverer  appear,  I  say,"  he  shouted,  weaving 
in  commands  to  us  as  he  dealt  stout  blows  about 
him  and  receded  down  the  river  bank,  ''  Take 
that — and  that — and  that,"  I  heard  him  shout, 
with  a  rat-tat^too  of  sharp  thuds  from  the  staff 
accompanying  each  word. 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     427 

Then  I  knew  the  quarrel  on  the  beach  was  at 
its  height ;  and  Louis  Laplante  was  still  foiling 
the  Sioux's  approach  to  Miriam's  wigwam  like  a 
deft  fencer. 

*'  Follow  me,  Little  Fellow,"  I  commanded. 
"  Have  your  knife  ready,"  and  I  had  not  finished 
speaking  when  three  shrill  whistles  came  from 
Louis.  'Twas  his  old-time  signal  of  danger. 
Above  the  hub-bub  at  the  river  the  Sioux  squaw 
was  screaming  to  the  braves. 

Bounding  from  concealment,  I  tore  off  the 
layer  roofing  of  the  wigwam,  plunged  through 
the  tapering  pole  frame,  shaking  the  frail  lean-to 
like  a  house  of  cards,  and  was  beside  ]\Iiriam. 
Again  I  heard  Louis'  whistle  and  again  the 
squaw's  angry  scream  ;  but  Little  Fellow  had 
followed  on  my  heels  and  stood  with  knife-blade 
glittering  bare  at  the  tent-entrance. 

"  Hush,"  I  whispered,  slashing  my  dagger 
through  the  thongs  around  her  hands  and  cutting 
the  rope  that  held  her  to  the  central  stake. 
"  We've  found  you  at  last.     Come !  Come  1 "  and 

I  caught  her  up. 

-  O  my  God  !  "  she  cried.  ''At  last !  At  last ! 
Where  is   the   child?     They   have    taken    little 

£ric  ! 

'*\Ve  have  him  safe!     His  father  is  waiting! 

Don't  hesitate,  Miriam!" 

''  Run,  Little  Fellow,"  I  ordered,  ''Across  the 
camp.  Get  the  child,"  and  I  sprang  from  the 
wigwam,  which  crashed  to  the  ground  be- 
hind me.     I  had   thought  to  save  skirting  the 


428  Lords  of  the  North 

woods  by  a  run  across  the  camping-ground  ;  but 
when  my  Indian  dashed  for  the  child  and  the 
Sioux  saw  me  undefended  with  the  white  woman 
in  my  arms,  she  made  a  desperate  lunge  at  La- 
plante  and  called  at  the  top  of  her  voice  for  the 
braves. 

Louis,  with  weapons  in  hand,  still  kept  be- 
tween the  fury  and  Miriam ;  but  I  think  his 
French  chivalry  must  have  been  restraining  him. 
Though  the  Sioux  offered  him  many  opportuni- 
ties and  was  doing  her  best  to  sheathe  a  knife  in 
his  heart,  he  seemed  to  refrain  from  using  either 
dagger  or  pistol.  An  insolent  laugh  was  on  his 
face.  The  life-and-death  game  which  he  was 
playing  was  to  his  daring  spirit  something  novel 
and  amusing. 

**  The  lady  is — perturbed,"  he  laughed,  dodg- 
ing a  thrust  at  his  neck;  ''she  fences  wide,  tra- 
la,"  this  as  the  barrel  of  his  pistol  parried  a  drive 
of  her  knife  ;  "  she  hits  afar — ho — ho — not  so 
fast,  my  fury — not  so  furious,  my  fair — zipp, 
ha — ha — ha — another  miss — another  miss — the 
lady's  a-miss,"  for  the  squaw's  weapon  struck  fire 
against  his  own. 

"  Look  out  for  the  braves,  have  a  care,**  I 
shouted  ;  for  a  dozen  young  bucks  were  running 
up  behind  to  the  woman's  aid. 

"  Ha — ha — prenez  garde — my  tiger-cat  has  kit- 
tens," he  laughed ;  and  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder. 

That  backward  look  gave  the  fury  her  oppor- 
tunity.    In  the  firelight  blue  steel  flashed  bright. 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     429 

The  Frenchman  reeled,  threw  up  his  arms,  and 
fell  One  sharp,  deep,  broken  draw  of  breath,  and 
with  a  laugh  on  his  lips,  Louis  Laplante  died  as 
he  had  lived.  Then  the  tiger-cat  leaped  over  the 
dead  form  at  Miriam  and  me. 

What  happened  next  I  can  no  more  set  down 
consecutively  than  I  can  distinguish  the  parts  m 
a  confused  picture  with  a  red-eyed  fury  striking 
at  me,  naked  Indians  brandishing  war-clubs, 
flashes  of  powder  smoke,  a  circle  of  gesticulating, 
screeching  dark  faces  in  the  background,  my  In- 
dian fighting  like  a  very  fiend,  and  a  pale-faced 
woman  with  a  little  curly-headed  boy  at  her  feet 
standing  against  the  woods.  ^^ 

-Run,   Monsieur ;  I    keep    bad    Indians    otf, 
urged  Little  Fellow.     ''  Run---save  white  squaw 
and  papoose— run.  Monsieur'' 

Now,  whatever  may  be  said  to   the  contrary, 
however  brave  two  men    may  be,  they  cannot 
stand  off  a  horde  of  armed  savages.     I  let  go  my 
whole  pistol-charge,  which  sent  the  red  demons 
to  a  distance  and  intended  dashing  for  the  woods, 
when  the   Sioux  woman    put  her  hand    in   her 
pocket  and  hurled  a  flint  head  at  Little  Fellow 
The  brave  Indian  sprang  aside  and  the  thing  fel 
to  the  ground.     With  it  fell  a  crumpled  sheet  of 
paper.     I  heard  rather  than  saw  Little  Fellow  s 
crouching  leap.     Two  forms  rolled  over  and  over 
in  the   camp   ashes;    and   with   Miriam    on    my 
shoulder  and  the   child  under  the   other  arm,  I 
had  dashed  into  the  thicket  of  the  upper  ground. 
Overhead  tossed  the  trees  in  a  swelling  wind, 


430  Lords  of  the  North 

and  up  from  the  shore  rushed  the  din  of  wrang- 
ling tongues,  screaming  and  swearing  in  a  clamor 
of  savage  wrath.  The  wind  grew  more  boister- 
ous as  I  ran.  Behind  the  Indian  cries  died 
faintly  away  ;  but  still  with  a  strength  not  my 
own,  always  keeping  the  river  in  view,  and  often 
mistaking  the  pointed  branches,  which  tore  cloth- 
ing and  flesh  from  head  to  feet,  for  the  hands  of 
enemies — I  fled  as  if  wolves  had  been  pursuing. 

Again  and  again  sobbed  Miriam — "  O,  my  God  ! 
At  last !  At  last !  Thanks  be  to  God  !  At  last! 
At  last ! " 

We  were  on  a  hillock  above  our  camp.  Put- 
ting Miriam  down,  I  gave  her  my  hand  and  car- 
ried the  child.  When  I  related  our  long,  futile 
search  and  told  her  that  Eric  was  waiting,  agita- 
tion overcame  her,  and  I  said  no  more  till  we 
were  within  a  few  feet  of  the  tents. 

"  Please  wait."  I  left  her  a  short  distance 
from  the  camp  that  I  might  go  and  forewarn 
Eric. 

Frances  Sutherland  met  me  in  the  way  and  read 
the  news  which  I   could  not  speak. 

*'  Have  you — oh — have  you  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  Who  is  that?"  and  she  pointed  to  the  child  in 
my  arms. 

**  Where's  Hamilton  ?  Where's  your  father  ?  " 
I  demanded,  trembling  from  exhaustion  and  all 
undone. 

**  Mr.  Hamilton  is  in  his  tent  priming  a  gun. 
Father  is  watching  the  river.  And  oh,  Rutus! 
is  it  really  so?"  she  cried,  catching  sight  of  Mir- 


The  Last  of  Louis'  Adventures     431 

iam's  stooped,  ragged  figure.  Then  she  darted 
past  me.  Both  her  arms  encircled  Miriam,  and 
the  two  began  weeping  on  each  other's  shoulders 
after  the  fashion  of  women. 

I  heard  a  cough  inside  Hamilton's  tent.  Going 
forward,  I  lifted  the  canvas  flap  and  found  Eric 
sitting  gloomily  on  a  pile  of  robes. 

*'  Eric,"  I  cried,  in  as  steady  a  voice  as  I  could 
command,  which,  indeed,  was  shaking  sadly,  and 
I  held  the  child  back  that  Hamilton  might  not 
see,  "  Eric,  old  man,  I  think  at  last  we've  run  the 
knaves  down." 

*'  Hullo  !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  start,  not  know- 
ing what  I  had  said.  "Are  you  men  back?  Did 
you  find  out  anything?  " 

"  Why — yes,"  said  I :  "  we  found  this,"  and  I 
signalled  Frances  to  bring  Miriam. 

This  was  no  way  to  prepare  a  man  for  a  shock 
that  might  unhinge  reason ;  but  my  mind  had 
become  a  vacuum  and  the  warm  breath  of  the 
child  nestling  about  my  neck  brought  a  mist 
before  my  eyes. 

"What  did  you  say  you  had  found?"  asked 
Hamilton,  looking  up  from  his  gun  to  the  tent- 
way  ;  for  the  morning  light  already  smote  through 
the  dark. 

"This,"  I  said,  lifting  the  canvas  a  second  time 
and  drawing  Miriam  forward. 

I  could  but  place  the  child  in  her  arms.  She 
glided  in.  The  flap  fell.  There  was  the  smoth- 
ered outcry  of  one  soul — rent  by  pain. 

"  Miriam — Miriam-^my  God — Miriam ! " 


432  Lords  of  the  North 

*'  Come  away,"  whispered  a  choky  voice  by  my 
side,  and  Frances  Hnked  her  arm  through  mine. 

Then  the  tent  was  filled  and  the  night  air  pal- 
pitated with  sounds  of  anguished  weeping.  And 
with  tears  raining  from  my  eyes,  I  hastened  away 
from  what  was  too  sacred  for  any  ear  but  a  pity- 
ing God's.  That  had  come  to  my  life  which 
taught  me  the  depths  of  Hamilton's  suffering. 

"  Dearest,"  said  I,  "  now  we  understand  both 
the  pain  and  the  joy  of  loving,"  and  I  kissed  her 
white  brow. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   PRIEST  JOURNEYS   TO   A  FAR  COUNTRY 

Again  the  guest-chamber  of  the  Sutherland 
home  was  occupied. 

How  came  it  that  a  Catholic  priest  lay  under  a 
Protestant  roof  ?  How  comes  it  that  the  new 
west  ever  ruthlessly  strips  reality  naked  of  creed 
and  prejudice  and  caste,  ever  breaks  down  the 
barrier  relics  of  a  mouldering  past,  ever  forces 
recognition  of  men  as  individuals  with  individual 
rights,  apart  from  sect  and  class  and  unmerited 
prerogatives?  The  Catholic  priest  was  wounded. 
The  Protestant  home  was  near.  Manhood  in 
Protestant  garb  recognized  manhood  in  Ro- 
man cassock.  Necessity  commanded.  Prejudice 
obeyed  as  it  ever  obeys  in  that  vast  land  of  un- 
trameled  freedom.  So  Father  Holland  was  cared 
for  in  the  Protestant  home  with  a  tenderness 
which  Mr.  Sutherland  would  have  repudiated. 
For  my  part,  I  have  always  thanked  God  for  that 
leveling  influence  of  the  west.  It  pulls  the  fools 
from  high  places  and  awards  only  one  crown — 
merit. 

It  was  Little  Fellow  who  had  brought  Father 
433 


434  Lords  of  the  North 

Holland,  wounded  and  insensible,  from  the  Sioux 
camp. 

*'  What  of  Louis  Laplante's  body,  Little  Fel- 
low?" I  asked,  as  soon  as  I  had  seen  all  the 
others  set  out  for  the  settlement  with  Father 
Holland  lying  unconscious  in  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe. 

"  The  white  man,  I  buried  in  the  earth  as  the 
white  men  do — deep  in  the  clay  to  the  roots  of 
the  willow,  so  I  buried  the  Frenchman,"  answered 
the  Indian.  "  And  the  squaw,  I  weighted  with 
stones  at  her  feet  ;  for  they  trod  on  the  captives. 
And  with  stones  I  weighted  her  throat,  which 
was  marked  like  the  deer's  when  the  mountain 
cat  springs.  With  the  stones  at  her  throat  and 
her  feet,  the  squaw,  I  rolled  into  the  water." 

"  What,  Little  Fellow,"  I  cried,  remembering 
how  I  had  seen  him  roll  over  and  over  through 
the  camp-fire,  with  his  hands  locked  on  the 
Sioux  woman's  throat,  '*  did  you  kill  the  daughter 
of  L'Aigle  ?  " 

"  Non,  yionsieiir ;  Little  Fellow  no  bad  Indian. 
But  the  squaw  threw  a  flint  and  the  flint  was 
poison,  and  my  hands  were  on  her  throat,  and 
the  squaw  fell  into  the  ashes,  and  when  Little 
Fellow  arose  she  was  dead.  Did  she  not  slay 
La  Robe  No're  ?  Did  she  not  slay  the  white 
man  before  Monsieur's  eyes?  Did  she  not  bind 
the  white  woman  ?  Did  she  not  drag  me  over 
the  ground  like  a  dead  stag?  So  my  fingers 
caught  hard  in  her  throat,  and  when  I  arose  she 
lay  dead  in  the  ashes.     So  I  fled  and  hid  till  the 


The  Priest  Journeys  to  a  Far  Country     435 

tribe  left.  So  I  shoved  her  into  the  water 
and  pushed  her  under,  and  she  sank  Hke  a  heavy 
rock.     Then  I  found  the  priest." 

I  had  no  reproaches  to  ofTer  Little  Fellow. 
He  had  only  obeyed  the  savage  instincts  of  a 
savage  race,  exacting  satisfaction  after  his  own 
fashion. 

''  The  squaw  threw  a  flint.  The  flint  was  poi- 
son. Also  the  squaw  threw  this  at  Little  Fel- 
low, white  man's  paper  with  signs  which  are 
magic,"  and  the  Indian  handed  me  the  sheet, 
which  had  fallen  from  the  woman's  pocket  as  she 
hurled  her  last  weapon. 

Without  fear  of  the  magic  so  terrifying  to  him, 
I  took  the  dirty,  crumpled  missive  and  unfolded 
it.  The  superscription  of  Quebec  citadel  was  at 
the  top.  With  overwhelming  revulsion  came 
memory  of  poor  Louis  Laplante  lying  at  the 
campfire  in  the  gorge  tossing  a  crumpled  piece 
of  paper  wide  of  the  flames,  where  the  Sioux 
squaw  surreptitiously  picked  it  up.  The  paper 
was  foul  and  tattered  almost  beyond  legibility ; 
but  through  the  stains  I  deciphered  in  dehcate 
penciling  these  words : 

'*  In  memory  of  last  night's  carouse  in  Lower 
Town,  (one  favor  deserves  another,  you  know, 
and  I  got  you  free  of  that  scrape),  spike  the  gun  of 
my  friend  the  enemy.  If  R-f-s  G~p— e,  E. 
H—l-t-n,  J— k  MacK,  or  any  of  that  prig  gang 
come  prying  round  your  camp  for  news,  put 
them  on  the  wrong  track.     I  owe  the  whole 


43 6  Lords  of  the  North 

set  a  score.     Pay  it   for   me,  and  we'll  call 

the  loan  square." 

No  name  was  signed ;  but  the  scene  in  the 
Quebec  club  three  years  before,  when  Eric  had 
come  to  blows  with  Colonel  Adderly,  explained 
not  only  the  authorship  but  Louis'  treachery. 
'Tis  the  misfortune  of  errant  rogues  like  poor 
Louis  that  to  get  out  of  one  scrape  ever  involves 
them  in  a  worse.  Now  I  understood  the  tumult 
of  contradictory  emotions  that  had  wrought  upon 
him  when  I  had  saved  his  life  and  he  had  resolved 
to  undo  the  wrong  to  Miriam. 

Little  Fellow  put  the  small  canoe  to  rights, 
and  I  had  soon  joined  the  others  at  the  Suther- 
land homestead.  But  for  two  days  the  priest  lay 
as  one  dead,  neither  moaning  nor  speaking.  On 
the  morning  of  the  third,  though  he  neither 
opened  his  eyes  nor  gave  sign  of  recognition,  he 
asked  for  bread.  Then  my  heart  gave  a  great 
bound  of  hope — for  surely  a  man  desiring  food 
is  recovering  I — and  I  sent  Frances  Sutherland 
to  him  and  went  out  among  the  trees  above  the 
river. 

That  sense  of  resilient  relief  which  a  man  feels 
on  discharging  an  impossible  task,  or  throwing 
off  too  heavy  a  burden,  came  over  me.  Miriam 
was  rescued,  the  priest  restored,  and  I  dowered 
with  God's  best  gift — the  love  of  a  noble,  fair 
woman.  Hard  duty's  compulsion  no  longer 
spurred  me  ;  but  my  thoughts  still  drove  in  a 
wild  whirl. 


The  Priest  Journeys  to  a  Far  Country     437 

There  was  a  glassy  reflection  of  a  faded  moon 
on  the  water,  and  daybreak  came  rustling  through 
the  trees  which  nodded  and  swayed  overhead. 
A  twittering  of  winged  things  arose  in  the 
branches,  first  only  the  cadence  of  a  robin's 
call,  an  oriole's  flute-whistle,  the  stirring  wren's 
mellow  note.  Then,  suddenly,  out  burst  from 
the  leafed  sprays  a  chorus  of  song  that  might 
have  rivaled  angels*  melodies.  The  robin's  call 
was  a  gust  of  triumph.  The  oriole's  strain 
lilted  exultant  and  a  thousand  throats  gushed 
out  golden  notes. 

"  Now  God  be  praised  for  love  and  beauty  and 
goodness — and  above  all — for  Frances — for  Fran- 
ces," were  the  words  that  every  bird  seemed  to  be 
singing;  though,  indeed,  the  interpretation  was 
only  my  heart's  response.  I  know  not  how  it  was, 
but  I  found  myself  with  hat  off  and  bowed  head, 
feeling  a  gratitude  which  words  could  not  frame 
— for  the  splendor  of  the  universe  and  the  glory 
of  God. 

**  Rufus,"  called  a  voice  more  musical  to  my 
ear  than  any  bird  song  ;  and  Frances  was  at  my 
side  with  a  troubled  face.  *'  He's  conscious  and 
talking,  but  I  can't  understand  what  he  means. 
Neither  can  Miriam  and  Eric.  I  wish  you  would 
come  in." 

I  found  the  priest  pale  as  the  pillows  against 
which  he  leaned,  with  glistening  eyes  gazing 
fixedly  high  above  the  lintel  of  the  door.  Mir- 
iam, with  her  snow-white  hair  and  sad-lined  face, 
was  fanning  the  air  before  him.     At  the  other 


438  Lords  of  the  North 

side  stood  Eric  with  the  boy  in  his  arms.  Mr. 
Sutherland  and  I  entered  the  room  abreast.  For 
a  moment  his  wistful  gaze  fell  on  the  group 
about  the  bed.  First  he  looked  at  Eric  and  the 
child,  then  at  Miriam,  and  from  Miriam  to  me, 
then  back  to  the  child.  The  meaning  of  it  all 
dawned,  gleamed  and  broke  in  full  knowledge 
upon  him  ;  and  his  face  shone  as  one  transfigured. 

"  The  Lord  was  with  us,"  he  muttered,  strok- 
ing Miriam's  white  hair.  **  Praise  be  to  God! 
Now  I  can  die  in  peace " 

**  No,  you  can't.  Father,"   I  cried  impetuously. 

''  Ye  irriverent  ruffian,"  he  murmured  with  a 
flash  of  old  mirth  and  a  gentle  pressure  of  my 
hand.  "Ye  irriverent  ruffian.  Peace!  Peace! 
I  die  in  peace,"  and  again  the  wistful  eyes  gazed 
above  the  door. 

"  Rufus,"  he  whispered  softly,  "  where  are 
they  taking  me  ?" 

"  Taking  you  ? "  I  asked  in  surprise ;  but 
Frances  Sutherland's  finger  was  on  her  lips,  and 
I  stopped  myself  before  saying  more. 

"Troth,  yes,  lad,  where  are  they  taking  me? 
The  northern  tribes  have  heard  not  a  word  of 
the  love  of  the  Lord  ;  and  I  must  journey  to  a 
far,  far  country." 

At  that  the  boy  set  up  some  meaningless  child 
prattle.     The  priest  heard  him  and  listened. 

"  Father,"  asked  the  child  in  the  language  of  In- 
dians when  referring  to  a  priest,  "  Father,  if  the 
good  white  father  goes  to  a  far,  far  away,  who'll 
go  to  northern  tribes  ?  " 


The  Priest  Journeys  to  a  Far  Country     439 

*'  And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them,"  murmured 
the  priest,  thinking  he,  himself,  had  been  ad- 
dressed and  feeling  out  blindly  for  the  boy. 
Eric  placed  the  child  on  the  bed,  and  Father 
Holland's  wasted  hands  ran  through  the  lad's 
tangled  curls. 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them,"  he  whispered. 
"  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart  in 
peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  salvation. 
A  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles — and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them." 

Then  I  first  noticed  the  filmy  glaze,  as  of  glass, 
spreading  slowly  across  the  priest's  white  face. 
Blue  lines  were  on  his  temples  and  his  lips  were 
drawn.  A  cold  chill  struck  to  my  heart,  like  icy 
steel.  Too  well  I  read  the  signs  and  knew  the 
summons;  and  what  can  love,  or  gratitude,  do  in 
the  presence  of  that  summons  ?  IMiriam's  face 
was  hidden  in  her  hands  and  she  was  weeping 
silently. 

"  The  northern  tribes  know  not  the  Lord  and 
I  go  to  a  far  country  ;  but  a  little  child  shall  lead 
them  !  "  repeated  the  priest. 

"  Indeed,  Sir,  he  shall  be  dedicated  to  God," 
sobbed  Miriam.  "  I  shall  train  him  to  serve  God 
among  the  northern  tribes.  Do  not  worry ! 
God  will  raise  up  a  serv'ant " 

But  her  words  were  not  heeded  by  the  priest. 

"  Rufus,  lad,"  he  said,  gazing  afar  as  before, 
**  Lift  me  up,"  and  I  took  him  in  my  arms. 

''  My  sight  is  not  so  good  as  it  was,"  he  whis- 
pered.    "  There's  a  dimness  before  my  face,  lad  ! 


440  Lords  of  the  North 

Can  yo7i  see  anything  up  there  ?  "  he  asked,  star- 
ing longingly  forward. 

''  Faith,  now,  what  might  they  all  be  doing 
with  stars  for  diadems?  What  for  might  the 
angels  o'  Heaven  be  doin'  going  up  and  down 
betwane  the  blue  sky  and  the  green  earth  ? 
Faith,  lad,  'tis  daft  ye  are,  a-changin'  of  me 
clothes!  Lave  the  black  gown,  lad!  Tis  the 
badge  of  poverty  and  He  was  poor  and  knew  not 
where  to  lay  His  head  of  a  weary  night  !  Lave 
the  black  gown,  I  say !  What  for  wu'd  a  powr 
Irish  priest  be  do  in'a-wearin'  of  radiant  white  ? 
Where  are  they  takin'  me,  Rufus  ?  Not  too  near 
the  light,  lad  !  I  ask  but  to  kneel  at  the  Master's 
feet  an'  kiss  the  hem  of  His  robe !  " 

There  was  silence  in  the  room,  but  for  the  sub- 
dued sobbing  of  Miriam.  Frances  had  caught 
the  priest's  wrists  in  both  her  hands,  and  had 
buried  her  face  on  the  white  coverlet.  With  his 
back  to  the  bed,  Mr.  Sutherland  stood  by  the 
window  and  I  knew  by  the  heaving  of  his  angular 
shoulders  that  flood-gates  of  grief  had  opened. 
There  was  silence  ;  but  for  the  hard,  sharp,  quick, 
short  breathings  of  the  priest.  A  crested  bird 
hopped  to  the  window-sill  with  a  chirp,  then 
darted  off  through  the  quivering  air  with  a  glint 
of  sunlight  from  his  flashing  wings.  I  heard  the 
rustle  of  morning  wind  and  felt  the  priest's  face 
growing  cold  against  my  cheek. 

''  I  must  work  the  Master's  work,"  he  whis- 
pered, in  short  broken  breaths,  ''  while  it  is  day— 
for  the  night  cometh — v>'hen  no  man— can  work. 


The  Priest  Journeys  to  a  Far  Country     441 

—Don't  hold  me  back,  lad — for  I  must  go — to  a 
far,  far  country — It's  cold,  cold,  Rufus — the  way  is 
— rugged — my  feet  are  slipping — slipping — give 
a  hand — lad  ! — Praise  to  God — there's  a  resting- 
place — somewhere  ! — Farewell — boy — be  brave — 
farewell — I  may  not  come  back  soon — but  I  must 
— journey — to — a far far " 

There  was  a  little  gasp  for  breath.  His  head 
fell  forward  and  Frances  sobbed  out,  '*  He  is 
gone  !     He  is  gone  !  " 

And  the  warmth  of  pulsing  life  in  the  form 
against  my  shoulder  gave  place  to  the  rigid  cold 
of  motionless  death. 

*'  May  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  receive  the  soul 
of  His  righteous  servant,"  cried  Mr.  Sutherland  in 
awesome  tones. 

With  streaming  eyes  he  came  forward  and 
helped  me  to  lay  the  priest  back. 

Then  we  all  passed  out  from  that  chamber, 
made  sacred  by  an  invisible  presence. 


VALEDICTORY. 

'TWAS  twenty  years  after  Father  Holland's 
death  that  a  keen-eyed,  dark-skinned,  young 
priest  came  from  Montreal  on  his  way  to  Atha- 
basca. 

This  was  Miriam's  son. 

To-day  it  is  he,  the  missionary  famous  in  the 
north  land,  who  passing  back  and  forward  be- 
tween his  lonely  mission   in  the  Athabasca  and 


442  Lords  of  the  North 

the  headquarters  of  his  order,  comes  to  us  and 
occupies  the  guest-chamber  in  our  httle,  old- 
fashioned,  vine-grown  cottage. 

The  retaking  of  Fort  Douglas  virtually  closed 
the  bitter  war  between  Hudson's  Bay  and  Nor*- 
Westers.  To  both  companies  the  conflict  had 
proved  ruinous.  Each  was  as  anxious  as  the 
other  for  the  terms  of  peace  by  which  the  great 
fur-trading  rivals  were  united  a  few  years  after 
the  massacre  of  Seven  Oaks. 

So  ended  the  despotic  rule  of  gentlemen  ad- 
venturers in  the  far  north.  The  massacre  turned 
the  attention  of  Britain  to  this  unknown  land  and 
the  daring  heroism  of  explorers  has  given  place 
to  the  patient  nation-building  of  multitudes  who 
follow  the  pioneer.  Such  is  the  record  of  a  day 
that  is  done. 


PARLOUS  TIMES 

DAVID  DWIGHT  WELLS 
i\      Novel      of      Modern      Diplomacy 

BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF 

**  Her  Ladyship's  Elephant." 

Parlous  Times  is  a  society  novel  of  to-day. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  London  in  diplomatic 
circles.  The  romance  was  suggested  by  experi- 
ences of  the  author  while  Second  Secretar}^  of 
the  United  States  Embassy  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James.  It  is  a  charming  love  story,  with  a 
theme  both  fresh  and  attractive.  The  plot  is 
strong,  and  the  action  of  the  book  goes  with  a 
rush.  Political  conspiracy  and  the  secrets  of 
an  old  tower  of  a  castle  in  Sussex  play  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  novel.  The  story  is  a 
bright  comedy,  full  of  humor,  flashes  of  keen 
wit  and  clever  epigram.  It  will  hold  the 
reader's  attention  from  beginning  to  end. 
Altogether  it  is  a  good  story  exceedingly  well 
told,  and  promises  to  be  Mr.  Wells'  most  suc- 
cessful novel. 

Cloth,  8vo,  $l.50 


J.    T.   TAYLOR    CEL    COMPANY 

S  Sh  7  EJhST  SIXTEENTH  ST„   NEW   YORK 


'*  'We    -were     Strang'era    and    tHey    tooK    vis    in." 

The  Van  Dwellers 

A     STRENUOUS      QUILST     FOR     A     HOME 

BY 

ALBERT    BIGELOW    PAINE 

Author  of  "The    Dread    Line" 


To  Those  Who  Have  Lived  in  Flats 

To  Those  Who  Are  Living  in  Flats,  and 

To  Those  Who  Are  Thinking  of  Living  in  Flats 

Every  one  will  enjoy  the  delicious  humor  in  this  account 
of  a  pursuit  of  the  Ideal  Home.      The  agonizing  compli- 
cations that  arose  between  Landlord,  Janitor,  Moving 
Man  and  the  Little  Family  are  limitless. 
Only    tHe    income  of  tKe    searcKers    is  limited. 


A.    booK   to    appeal    to    every    one,  -wHetHer 
afQicted  -witK  liKe  tro\ibles  or  not. 


Illustrated,   ClotH,   $1.00 

Very  cHeap — considering  -wHat  tKe 
experience  cost. 


J.    r.    TAYLOR    Ca    COMPANY 

5*7    EJtST  SIXTEENTH  ST.,   NEW"  YORtl 


Ji  Drone 

and 

Jl  Dream ER 

A     LO  V  E  Illustrated,  Cloth,  Suo 

STORy  $L50 

By  NELSON   LLOYD 

Jiuthor  of  "The  Chronic  Loafer" 


,A  critic  in  reviewing  The  Chronic  Loafer  5a;d: 

"Pennsylvania  fiction  has  never  been  listed  as  a  standard  stock  but 
Mr.  Llovd  has  only  to  continue  to  write  and  Pennsylvania  will  be  lifted  ; 
I  venture  to  add,  into  the  list  of  preferred  securities." 

"A  Drone  ancl  a  Dreamer"  is  a  rich  fultillment  of  this 
prophecv.  Brimming  over  with  genial  humor  and  wholesome  fun,  the 
book  is  an  exquisite  love  story  and  charming  idyl  of  life  among  the  moun- 
tains and  valleys  of  the  Keystone  State. 

DROCH  in  LIFE  : 

"One  of  the  most  fertile  yet  unploughed  regions  in  the  United  States 
for  local  fiction  is  Pennsylvania.  It  is  old,  and  vast  and  picturesque. 
Bavard  Taylor  and  Weir  Mitchell  have  given  the  Philadelphia  end  of  the 
State  some  importance  in  fiction.  John  Luther  Long  has  written  several 
effective  tales  in  the  Dutch  dialect,  and  the  Moravians  of  Bethlehem  have 
inspired  a  novel  or  two.  These  writers,  however,  have  hardly  scratched 
around  the  corners  of  the  great  state.  Mr.  Lloyd  does  not  try  to  palm  off 
a  weak  imitation  of  a  Miss  Wilkins  Yankee  as  a  rustic  Pennsylvanian. 
His  humor  comes  spontaneously  from  the  soil." 

BOOK  BUYER : 

"  Mr.  Lloyd  is  an  excellent  workman.  He  makes  us  see  the  quiet  of 
the  hills  and  the  allurements  of  the  trout-stream,  yet  he  refrains  as  scrupu- 
lously as  Mr.  Howells  himself  from  obtruding  his  own  personalir\'.  His 
characters  themselves  apparently  produce  the  effects  due  to  his  skill.  His 
subject-matter  is  remarkably  fresh.     Pervading  it  all  is  a  delightful  humor." 


J.    r.  TAYLOR    CSL    company 

5    «•    7    EJfST  SIXTEENTH   ST.,    NEW  YORn 


Trimity  Bells 

By    AME.L1A    E.     BARK 

Cloth,    800,    SI'SO 
Sist«en  fvill-pa^e  Illustrations  by  I^*lye« 


"One      of     tk\e      k>e9t      stories     ever     -written     by 
^n\elia  £^.  Darr." 

ST.    LOUIS    GLOBi:    DEMOCRAT. 

CHRISTIAN    NATION. 

"Without  question  the  beat  book  for  young  girls  which  has  appeared 
for  years.  Besides  being  interesting  it  has  an  educational  value,  as  it  is  good 
supplementary  reading  to  a  school  course  in  history.  Mrs.  Barr  is  at  her 
best  in  Trinity  Bells.  We  trust  that  every  library  will  soon  have  a  copy  on 
its  shelves." 

LITE-RARY   WORLD,    Boston. 

**In  idea  and  execution  this  is  one  of  the  author's  best  works,  »nd 
well  worthy  of  its  superb  drees  of  silver  and  green." 

THE   BOOn-BUYER. 

"The  name  is  happily  chosen  for  this  romantic  story  of  life  in  New 
York  during  the  period  preceding  the  war  with  the  Mediterranean  corsairs, 
for  the  bells  of  Old  Trinity  ring  out  an  accompaniment  to  the  changing  for- 
tunes of  the  lo/able  little  Dutch  heroine.  There  is  a  charm  in  Mrs.  Barr'i 
work  that  goes  directly  to  the  reader's  heart,  while  her  skill  in  the  delinea- 
tion of  character  is  no  less  effective  in  its  appeal  to  the  mind.  Trinity  Bellt 
is  an  excellent  minor  historical  romance,  worthy  of  a  permanent  place  in  a 
young  girl's  librarj'." 

BOSTON   TIMES  I 

*'No  more  agreeable  story  of  life  in  the  early  days  of  our  country  hitt 
ever  been  written.  Trinity  Bells  shows  Mrs,  Barr's  charm  and  power  in 
all  its  force  and  beaut)'.     Besides  its  historical  value,  it  is  vastly  entertaining.'* 


J.     r.      TAYLOR     (Q-     COMPANY 

5^7    EAST  SIXTEENTH   ST.,    NEW  YORli 


White     Butteiiflies 

Dy    rati:    UPSON    CLARIl 

ClotK,   ftvo,  $1.25 

MARY  E.  "WILH.INS 

"The  stories  are  marvellous.  I  feel  ai  though  1  were  conitantly  find- 
ing  another  'vein  of  go!  J.  The  dramatic  power  in  some  of  them  ha«  never 
been  excelled  in  any  American  short  stories.      *  Solly''  is  a  masterj>iece." 

ANSON    JUDD     UPSON.     D.D.,     L.L.D., 

CKancellor  of  XKe   TJniv.    of  Ne-w   "YorK 

"Your  stories  are  just  what  I  like.  Your  characters  are  exceedingly 
vivid.  I  cannot  too  warmly  commend  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  year 
style,  the  vividness  of  your  characters  and  the  general  construction  of  the 
stories." 

MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER 

"It  seems  to  me  that  no  stories,  long  or  short,  have  appeared,  which 
illustrate  more  perfectly  than  these  what  we  have  in  mind  when  we  use,  bi 
a  literary  sense,  the  term  ^Americanism.'  The  atmosphere  of  these  beau- 
tiful tales  is  truthfully  varied  to  suit  every  locality  described,  but  everywhere 
the  standards  and  ideals  are  set  alike.  A  sound,  healthful  Americanism, 
just  what  we  wish  the  word  to  mean,  pervades  them  all." 

St.  Louis  Globe-Detnocrat 

"It  is  not  art ;  it  is  genius.'* 

XKe   Nation 

"It  is  imusual  to  find  so  wide  a  range  of  scene  and  person  in  one  col- 
lection of  short  stories.  In  each  of  these  a  strongly  dramatic  incident  is  in- 
troduced, ringing  both  true  and  real." 

Mail  and   Express 

"Many  a  nugget  of  wisdom,  many  a  bit  of  homely  philosophy,  and 
enough  humor  to  leaven  the  whole." 

"Western   Club  "Woman 

**Full  of  exquisite  pathos,  a  tenderness,  a  delicacy  of  touch  not  often 
equalled.      The  art  is  perfect." 

GHica^o  Evening  Post 

"Mrs.  Clark  is  entided  to  the  thanks  of  a  reading  public." 


J.     r.     TAYLOR     Ca.     COMPANY 

5*7   EJiSr   SIXTEEMTH    ST.,  NEW  YORK 


Charles    Ringsley 

novels,  poems  and  lite 
chi:ste:r  edition 

Illustrated  with  42  photogravure  plates  printed  on  Japa- 
nese paper,  from  paintings  by  ZeigUr,  and  from  portraits  by 
Reich  and  others,  photographs,  etc.  Introductions  by  Mau- 
rice Kings ky.  Printed  from  new,  large  type,  on  choice 
kid  paper. 

14  volumes,  8vo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $20.00. 
One>Half    crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  $4\,00, 


Supplied  separately  in  cloth,  as  follows: 

HEREWARD   THE    WAKE 

ALTON    LOCKE  

WESTWARD    HO! 

YEAST 

TWO    YEARS    AGO  .         -         .         . 

HYPATIA  

POEMS  ------- 

LETTERS    AND    MEMORIES 


i  Vols. 

y^3   00 

4      " 

3.00 

X       " 

3.00 

I     *' 

1.50 

2       " 

3.00 

2       " 

3.00 

I        *' 

1.50 

2       '* 

3.00 

This  is  the  only  illustrated  edition  of  this  author's 
worhs  ever  issued.  The  introductions  by  Charles  Kingsley's 
son  are  particularly  interesting  and  timely. 


J.     F.     TAYLOR     Ca     COMPANT 

5^7   EAST  SIXTEENTH   ST.,    NEW   YORK 


NORTH 

WEST  But  One  Verdict  east 

SOUTH 


THE 
CHRONIC 
LOAFER 


BY 

NELSON    LLOYD 

8vo.  ClotH,  $1.25 


OutlooK,     New    YorK 

Ne-w  <<A  new  American  humorist.      The   stories  have  the  point  and  dry 

VorK    force  found  in  those  told  by  the  late  lamented  David  Harum.^' 

San    rrancisco    Argonaiat 

Cal.  **Will  bring  a  smile  when  it  is  read  a  second  or  third  time.** 

Ne-w     Orleans     Picay"une 

jLa.  "Racy  with  wisdom  and  humor." 

OKica^o     Inter-Ocean 

jii  "A  book  full  of  good  laughs,  and  will  be  found  «  sure>«pcclfic  for  the 

blues." 

OznaHa    "World    Herald 

Neb<  "The  reader  will  love  him." 


Pa. 


M. 


NortH     American,     PKiladelpHia 

"Great  natural   humor  and  charm.      In  this  story  alone  Mr.  Lloyd 
is  deserving  of  rank  up-front  among  the  American  himiorists. " 

Poxnland    Transcript 

*'A  cheerful  companion.      The  reviewer  has  enjoyed  it  in  a  month 
when  books  to  be  read  have  been  many  and  the  time  precious." 


Denver    Republican 

*'Nelson  Lloyd  is  to  be  hailed  as  a  Columbus.      There  isn't  a  story  in 
the  book    that  isn't  first-class  fun,  and  there's  no  reason  why  The  Chronic 
Col     Loafer  should  not  be  placed  in  the  gallery  of  American  celebrities  beside  the 
popiilar  and  philosophical  Mr.  Dooley." 


J.     F.     TAYLOR     Ca.     COMPANY 
S«-  7  EJIST  SIXTBEKTH  ST.,  NEW  TOKB 


The  Game  of  Squash 

BY 

EUSTACE    MILES.    M.A. 

Of   King's    College,    Cambridge 

A.mate\jr   Tennis   CKampion  of   E.n§Cland  and   tHo 

United  States;   A.mate\ar  Racqvjet  CKampion 

United    States    and    Oanada 


fROFUSELY  ILLUSTRJiTED  IVITH  FULL-PJiGR 
HJiLP'TONES  JiNti  LT^E  CUTS,  DJ^GR^MS, 
ETC.,  BOUJ^D  IM  OOZE  LEVANT,  FLEXIBLE 
CODER,     $1.50     NET 


Heartily  recommended  by 

GEORGE:    STANDING 

United     States     CKampion    Racqviets    and    SqxiasK 


May    be   obtained    at    any   of  tKe    leading    atKletic 
clvibs    or    from   tKe    pviblisKers 


J.    r.    TAYLOR    m.    COMPANY 

5  <a.  7    EAST   SIXTEENTH    ST.,    NE^W  YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OCr  iil     ly4; 


20^0^'SIWK 


eApr'JlL'' 


LD  21-100m-12,'46(A2012sl6)4120 


J 


Ml05<lo0 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


